


Leviathan

by itshysterekal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Video Game Mechanics, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 06:03:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19267282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itshysterekal/pseuds/itshysterekal
Summary: “The Triskelion is where you will begin your training for other missions. Leviathan is dedicated to peace and order.”Steve Rogers has spent two years playing virtual reality MMO Leviathan. Sometimes it can be a little too physical for someone with the kind of health issues he has, but that's what he loves about it. Everything changes when he finally reaches level 30 and forms a party with two players named Wingman and Falcon. As they progress through the game together, they begin to realize something is not quite right in the game's world. And what exactly does Steve's programming professor Tony Stark find so interesting about the game that he feels the need to hack it at multiple points?





	1. The Triskelion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Captain Samurai and the Winter Ninja](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892309) by [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific). 



> This was a wild ride. Many thanks to the ridiculously talented mific for the excellent art that i probably took way off track and used that shield and throwing stars in unintended ways. (I'm so sorry lol.)
> 
> Likewise, this story would also not exist without my abused beta ravenclaw2313 who somehow always suffers for my procrastination in spite of constant (requested, calm down, Steve) bullying.

Chapter One: The Triskelion 

“Welcome, Agent, to the Triskelion. What is your Agent ID?” 

Steve looked around at the futuristic headquarters in awe. He’d been playing Leviathan for years, but had only just made it out of the Badlands. Most players managed it in a year, but some hardcore players who did nothing but grind XP could manage it in a few months. Unfortunately for Steve, Leviathan was the kind of virtual reality game that required its player to actually move and walk in place. His health prevented him from going too far in a day, though thanks to the game he was much stronger than he would have been otherwise. 

“Welcome, Agent, to the Triskelion. What is your Agent ID?” 

“Sorry, yeah,” Steve mumbled. He’d gotten used to talking to people no one outside his headset could see or hear, but the triumph of finally making it to Leviathan headquarters had temporarily struck him dumb. “Murmur.” 

“Welcome, Agent Murmur. You have been selected to join the elite forces of Leviathan based on exemplary skills you displayed in the past.” 

The Greeter wasn’t talking about Steve’s past. The Badlands were set in the past, specifically medieval Europe. (Or medieval-like not-Europe as they seemed to dislike invoking real places in Leviathan.) Steve was still outfitted in armor and carrying a crossbow. There was some plot in the Badlands, but mostly it was just saving villagers and killing bandits until you reached level thirty and were recruited to the Triskelion. Steve probably should have stopped before taking on that last bandit camp, but he had realized just how close he was to thirty and couldn’t stop. So he all but cried when the Greeter started leading him down the hall, making him do even more walking.. 

“The Triskelion is where you will begin your training for other missions. Leviathan is dedicated to peace and order. You will be trained in many weapons and combat styles. Your first mission requires proficiency in both melee and ranged weapons, and land transportation. Master level is recommended. Sparring with other agents is encouraged. This occurs on level one. You will also find equipment for solo training. Medical is on level two. Be aware of your health. If your health reaches zero or remains at less than five percent for over twenty-four hours, you will be expelled from the program.” 

Steve had read about this. If you died in the Badlands, you lost experience toward your next level. If you died in the Triskelion, you lost _all_ of your experience and had to start over in the Badlands with nothing. The only difference between someone expelled from the Triskelion and someone just starting the game was that you knew which quests were most profitable in terms of XP or loot. 

Steve was not starting over in the Badlands. 

“Energy can be replenished at the canteen on level three,” she continued. Steve was struggling to keep up with her pace. He definitely wasn’t going to be able to do anything here tonight, but knowing that he’d gotten there was enough. “Levels four and up are the dormitories. Your dormitory is on level 32,557,038. Good luck.” 

With that, the Greeter opened a door to a staircase and waited expectantly for him to go in. “Is there an elevator?” he asked uncertainly. 

“Elevator use is restricted to Level 2 Agents.” 

“How does one become a Level 2 Agent?” he asked nervously. 

“Save the city,” she replied. “Good luck, Agent Murmur.” 

Steve sighed. There were three big Badlands-length storylines once you reached the Triskelion, and the city was the first. He was probably never going to see that dormitory, so he’d have to sell some of his gear to make space for the new stuff. He entered the stairwell and saw that he was on level zero. The door shut behind him and vanished; apparently there was no going back to the tutorial. There was also no more climbing stairs tonight, so he hit the logout button on his wrist and took his gear off. 

~*~ 

Steve skipped class the next day. He told himself he was going to rest after playing too long the day before, but eventually he grew too curious about the Triskelion. He’d done his best to avoid as many spoilers as possible, but he did know he’d run into other players much more frequently. He logged in at the bottom of the stairwell where he’d left off the night before and began to execute the strategy that had kept him up half the night. 

He skipped the training at level one and went straight to medical. He was able to exchange his spare crossbow for two medi-packs, which would hopefully keep him from dying before he could earn more. Fortunately, the game was an MMO that passed in real time, so Steve’s energy levels had replenished while he was logged out because his avatar was predictably capable of a lot more physical activity than Steve himself. On the bright side, he didn’t have to go up and find coins for food before heading down to the training room. 

There was a long hallway (because of course there was) with various doors. Steve walked right past the one labelled PVP and continued on. The left side of the hall had doors with various weapons listed and the right side had attributes like strength, dexterity, constitution, etc. He went into the strength room first, knowing his favoring ranged combat had impacted his character’s strength scores. 

Regrettably, he couldn’t just push a button and solve some puzzles. He had to push his arms out and pull them back as though he was actually lifting weights. This was the kind of thing that was easy for players who hadn’t had three different heart surgeries since the age of two, but for Steve this was a task where he might only be able to earn half a dozen XP per day. He counted and it took ten reps to gain one experience point. That made his decision to keep exploring easy. 

One of the doors was labelled Charisma, and Steve was so genuinely curious what kind of motion he’d have to do to develop that skill that he couldn’t pass it by even though it was collectively considered a useless skill. What he found was a nice surprise. Inside that room was a beautiful courtyard. There were trees, bushes, and flowers in an array of colors that made Steve’s fingers curl around a non-existent sketch pencil. Even better, there were benches. He sat his Avatar down on one of those and hit the movement lock button so he could lie down on his bed and he wouldn’t move in game. 

For a while, he just took it all in, but it didn’t take long for another player to show up. It was easy to tell the difference between players and NPCs because players all had an asterisk on their left shoulders you could point at to reveal their stats. The new arrival noticed Steve immediately. “Hey, Thirty!” the guy called and immediately took a seat next to Steve. “Welcome to the Triskelion. I’m Wingman.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve replied. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy and wasn’t about to unlock his movement, but he’d been blond like Steve and had a country accent. “I’m Murmur.” 

“Don’t get a lot of players in the charisma park, especially not their first twenty-four hours. You going for squishy?” 

Steve snorted. “Not really, I’m just tired, and this seemed like a good place to settle into movement lock.” Steve grinned ecstatically as _+1XP_ faded in and then out of his vision. “Okay, so I get charisma by chatting with other players.” 

“Yeah, it works like that all the time, but you level up approximately a million times faster in the park. I have a friend I usually play with, and we’d get maybe a point a day in the Badlands- and trust me, we never shut up.” 

Steve laughed again. “I solo’d pretty much all of it, so I never noticed.” 

“Well, no wonder you’re tired, Thirty. Must’ve taken you like a year to get through it alone.” 

“Two,” Steve admitted dolefully. 

If Wingman thought that was pathetic, he didn’t let on. “Falcon and I managed to team it in about eight months.” 

“Yeah?” Steve acknowledged. “You must have played constantly.” 

Wingman snickered. “We logged some hours, yeah. But it really does go faster the more people you have. No one you can rope in?” 

Steve shook his head before remembering he was locked. “No, I don’t really have any gamer friends.” He didn’t really have much in the way of friends at all, but he didn’t need to tell some stranger in an MMO that. “Are you all still working on the city or?” 

“Yeah. We’ve done a bunch of the lead-up missions, but if there’s one thing Leviathan’s good at, it’s drawing shit out. Shit. I mean, sorry. You’re not, like, a twelve year old using a voice mod and I’m cussing at you, right?” 

Steve laughed again. “No, I’m twenty-four. You’re good.” 

Wingman let out a hefty sigh. “Okay, good, because I curse like a fucking sailor most of the time. You should hear me if a mission’s going sideways.” 

“Well, if I ever get my stats up, maybe I will. I mean, not that you’d want to drag along a-” 

“Relax, Murmur. Falcon and I are here to have fun. We’re not asshole elitists like most players.” 

Steve stretched in his bed, trying not to think about his poor, exhausted muscles. “That’s nice to hear. Gotta warn you, I’m probably never gonna catch up.” 

“Too much real life?” 

“Basically,” Steve agreed. 

“Yeah, Falcon’s got a new job so I don’t see him online as much anymore.” 

“Sorry, that sucks,” said Steve. 

Wingman was suddenly in Steve’s line of sight as he started circling the pond. Apparently he was a restless player. That made sense, seeing as they were in a game built to make you move. “It’s alright,” the other player shrugged. “We’re roommates, so we still see each other at least in passing.” 

“Do you ever run into each other playing at the same time? Like, in your apartment or whatever?” Steve asked, laughing a little to himself. 

Wingman chuckled. “Once, yeah. We knocked into each other and I tripped over the couch and broke my pinky catching my fall. It’s exactly as funny as it sounds. Especially because we were in the middle of a bandit camp and they were asleep until I fell on their leader. Anyway, after that, we played in separate rooms.” 

Steve laughed and suddenly _Charisma +1 mod_ flashed on his screen. “Hey, you just helped me get a charisma modifier,” he said. 

“You are welcome, good sir. Now that you’ve got that, want to check out the rest of the stuff? Wisdom’s basically _Temple of Doom_.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I really am just gonna lay here for a while.” 

“Lay-?” Wingman repeated before remembering why Steve’s avatar was sitting so still. “You really are tired.” 

Steve replied with a self-deprecating chuckle, “Yeah, I should’ve stopped way before thirty yesterday, but I saw how close I was and, I mean, I’ve been waiting two years so I should’ve waited another day but I just…” 

“Dude, I get it. You’re talking to the guy whose best friend bought him a refurbished kit because he wanted a friend to help him get there faster. And now I’m the one nagging him to get on most of the time.” 

Steve grinned. “Yeah, this game can be pretty addicting.” 

“I’m probably going to farm ammo for a while, but-“ Wingman paused in Steve’s vision and started poking at Steve in a way that made him flinch. As soon as he realized Wingman was going for the asterisk that brought up his player menu, he felt ridiculous and glad movement lock wouldn’t have shown it. “-there. I added you. Feel free to add me back if you want. I don’t mind playing backup. It’s practically my name!” 

“Thanks,” he replied genuinely and tried to point at the other guy’s menu before realizing he’d have to turn off movement lock to do it. “I’ll look you up next time I’m on.” 

Wingman actually shot him some finger guns as he headed out of the park. Steve wondered if he checked the park because he wanted to level his charisma or if it was more to make friends. If Wingman’s roommate was truly too busy for him, it might be more of the latter. Like he said, only squishy characters cared about charisma. Steve waited a few more minutes before deciding he’d seen enough and that it wasn’t doing him any good to sit in an empty park. Reaching up to the logout button on the side of his helmet, he removed the kit and proceeded to curl up and get some sleep. 

~*~ 

The sleep helped at least a little, but Steve was still worn out the next day. He forced himself to go to class, where Professor Stark was lecturing on the stone-age shortcomings of flash animation and using a lot of words most of the class probably didn’t understand. ArcOn was a programming language of the man’s own invention and Steve had thought it would be amazing to learn from _the_ Tony Stark, but the game development course was a lot more tech oriented than art. Steve liked designing worlds. One of the reasons he took so long to clear the first world in Leviathan was that he spent so long just admiring the scenery. Every line and color had to be designed by someone, and he wanted to be that someone some day. 

“Hey, Pint-Size, hold up,” the professor called as class began to let out. Steve didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder. Professor Stark had tenure in spite of all the disrespectful nicknames he called his students, and Steve was pretty sure he was the shortest student in the class. Steve turned and forced a smile onto his face. Thankfully the instructor didn’t make him ask and just demanded, “Why weren’t you in class yesterday?” 

Steve sighed and his gaze fell. “Wasn’t feeling well,” he mumbled, embarrassment evident not just in his tone but his body language as well. 

“Did you work on the assignment at least?” 

“Which assignment?” Steve asked, his voice pitching up nervously. 

“Design an environment and put a MOB in that fits the scene.” 

“Right,” Steve replied. He wished he sounded more certain about it. 

“Do you know what a MOB even is, Shortcake?” 

Steve opened and shut his mouth without a word. His face was deep red, judging by the burning. 

“Mobile object, kid. Basic, basic game term. Seriously, have you even played a video game before?” 

Steve nodded. 

“I mean one with a world, not just PacMan. MMOs, RPGs, that kind of thing.” 

“I play Leviathan,” Steve mumbled. 

Stark lit up at that. “Now _that_ is some worldbuilding in there. I hear it takes a year just for most players to clear the first zone.” 

Steve sighed. “Took me two,” he admitted. “Not because… Look, I’m not bad at games, I’m just… I have a lot of health issues and you have to move to progress in Leviathan, and I get tired really easily.” 

Stark looked him up and down, seeming to finally realize Steve wasn’t just short, but hideously sickly too. At least he probably wouldn’t think Steve was lying about not feeling well so he could slack off. Finally, whatever he was thinking seemed to reach a conclusion. “You know they make accessibility kits, right? You could navigate via a keypad and joystick.” 

“Yeah. I’ve heard those are kind of clunky. Besides, the point is that it makes me move. My allergies and immunodeficiencies make it so I have to stay inside and my asthma and heart issues mean I can’t do anything too strenuous, so Leviathan’s kind of the perfect way for me to get some kind of physical activity.” 

“Okay, answer me this, short stuff: why are you taking my class? What do you like about video games? Why do you want to program them?” 

Steve pressed his lips together, feeling in his bones that his answer to this question was extremely, life-alteringly important somehow. “I’m an artist. I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil. The first video game I played was a medieval RPG and the detail was beyond amazing. Grass blades moved individually, flowers had petals, trees had fucking limbs, and things moved naturally when I walked through or into them. I want to make that, something that real and natural. I can’t do that with any other medium. I mean, maybe animation, but I like the idea of a story and a world my audience can interact with. Walk around in. Examine every fucking blade of grass because the game is that cool, that realistic.” 

Stark considered him for a moment. “Cool,” he said, and Steve believed him. “So what’s the problem with your assignments?” 

Another sigh. “LIke I said… I’m an artist. All the coding and numbers just kind of…” Steve made an indecipherable gesture with his hands. 

“Okay, so you work on a project with me, we call it tutoring or something, and that can be your assignment.” 

“You can do that?” 

“I’m Tony Stark, I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the hell I want.” 

Steve actually laughed a little. In spite of the man’s abrasive attitude, he was actually pretty cool. Steve probably wouldn’t end up best friends with him, but working with him on some kind of program sounded fun. Especially if he was interested in Steve’s artist perspective. 

Stark dismissed him with a promise to show him the project and fill in some details after class tomorrow, and Steve’s good mood followed him out the door. He almost didn’t feel tired anymore, and didn’t even hesitate to gear up and log in to the game. The first thing he did was add Wingman back and noticed he was online and in the Strength room. Steve made his way down the hall to find the trainer simulation and saw him sparring with about half a dozen other players- no, not with. Against. Even worse, Steve wasn’t sure it was even sparring. This looked like an all-out execution. 

Without a thought, Steve drew his bow and shot the biggest guy. He didn’t go down, so Steve shot him again. This time, he turned and gave Steve a look that made his breathing speed up. He must be ridiculously high level to show no disability after two arrows to the back. Steve started firing as rapidly as he could because the guy began to charge him. It barely slowed him down and he saw Wingman take a shot to try to get the guy away from Steve. 

The last thing Steve saw was the guy’s broadsword disappearing into his avatar’s torso before the whole world went dark. It lasted for a full three seconds before plain, typewriter style text typed itself onto the screen: _You have died. All experience lost. Restoring life essence. Transporting to The Beginning._

Steve fell to his knees on that damn grass in that fucking medieval wasteland where he’d spent two goddamn years leveling only to leave it behind for a single day. His breathing grew shallow and harsh and he realized he was crying. Just to add to his humiliation, Wingman suddenly materialized right next to him. “Dude, that sucked. Those assholes like to- You okay?” 

Steve nodded, wiping furiously at his eyes under his helmet. “Yeah, sorry. It just… took me two years to get out of this place the first time…” 

“Hey, don’t even worry about it. Falcon will blast himself back here, we’ll be back in the city in a month or two with all three of us..” 

Steve just shook his head. “It took me so long because I physically cannot play this game for that long. My handle is Murmur because I have a fucking heart murmur, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, pal. You know those goblin runners in Flaggron? I lost a level and had to log out because even fake game-running can trigger an asthma attack.” 

“Shit, Murmur,” Wingman replied. “I’m sorry… Why’d you jump in like that? You could’ve gone back out and kept leveling…” 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.” 

“Yeah, obviously not,” Wingman said with a humorless chuckle. “Look, just let me message Falcon real fast. We can probably clear the first level today. With three of us, it shouldn’t even take an hour.” 

Steve nodded, but he didn’t feel as positive about it as Wingman. He wanted to appreciate the help he was being offered, but the pain of knowing he’d lost two years of hard work in about one second was still very fresh. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“Dude, it’s my fault you’re back here. It’s the least I can do. Plus you’re gonna help me get back to the City faster too, right?” 

“Yeah. Of course.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna log out real fast,” Wingman said, practically dripping enthusiasm. “Don’t start rat smashing without me!” 

“Right,” Steve agreed. As if the game heard, something wriggled behind a bush at the edge of his range of vision. He contemplated going after it as Wingman blipped out of existence, but he wasn’t about to waste energy when it was clear he was expected to stay until they cleared the first level. He walked over to a nearby stump and sat down. The first few times he’d sat on a rock or a stump in-game while feeling the softness of his own bed in reality, it had been jarring. Now, Steve was pretty sure he’d find it jarring to sit on something hard in the real world and have it be solid. 

Finally, after about two minutes Wingman reappeared. He looked around before spotting Steve. “Yeah, he’s on his way,” the blond informed Steve. “It’s kind of hard to die intentionally in the Triskelion. You can jump off the edge of the city, though. That does the trick if you’re not ridiculously high lev- Falcon! You have a nice trip?” 

“Man, I can’t believe you talked me into starting this whole damn thing over. You’re lucky I like you,” Falcon replied. Steve liked his outfit. He had some kind of mask that was probably one of the things you could buy in the gem (micro-transaction) shop. It was like a helmet with built-in goggles, but there was no top. Instead, it had two points above the ears like wings. His Avatar was Black, and he and Wingman both sounded like they were probably as tall as their digital selves. Then again, Steve had a pretty deep voice for a guy who was five foot nothing and ninety pounds soaking wet. He’d gotten a few comments on it over the years, how surprised people were that he didn’t have a high voice. 

It was fucking rude. 

“Hey, you’re the one who wasn’t around to save my ass!” Wingman replied, holding up his hands in a sort-of shrug. “Murmur here’s my new best friend. He actually landed some arrows.” 

Steve wondered if his avatar would show his blush or if the motion capture only read motion. Falcon turned to Steve and he was suddenly painfully aware of his basic, freebie-ridden starter avatar. It was just the basic shades-of-brown peasant outfit without an ounce of customization. “Look, this guy- this guy... “ Falcon shook his head, laughing. “You picked the wrong Wingman, Murmur.” 

Steve grinned self-consciously. “Pretty sure he picked a bad third party member.” 

“Man, shut up,” Falcon rolled his eyes. He pointed to Steve’s shoulder and was already adding him. “Wait. Your highest was thirty?” He turned on Wingman. “You got a thirty killed?” 

“It’s no big deal,” Steve mumbled. 

“Murmur, it’s a big fucking deal,” Wingman insisted. “Falcon, this punk was in the Triskelion for literally a day before taking a sword to the chest.” 

“What the hell, man? Why?” Falcon was looking at Steve now. 

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve shrugged. 

Falcon stared at him for a long moment. Then he burst out laughing, trying to say something that Steve couldn’t quite discern, but probably had something to do with him being hilariously stupid. He couldn’t help but smile a little in response as the ridiculousness of it all finally started to seem more amusing than painful. “Come on, man. Let’s rat smash until we clear this level,” Falcon finally said and threw an arm around Steve’s shoulder. The world moved as his avatar was forced to walk, but Steve had one of the cheaper kits that didn’t provide haptic feedback. He’d heard Leviathan’s developers were working on something even more intense. Supposedly they were trying to create a kit that managed to tap directly into the player’s nervous system so that they could see and hear and smell everything like it was really happening. The idea of hacking into his brain was a little bit too much for Steve. Not that he could afford an upgrade if he wanted it. 

Fighting with Wingman and Falcon came easily. They talked endlessly about nothing as they exterminated every rat stupid enough to so much as stick its little nose out until first Falcon, then Wingman and Steve got level two notifications. Steve looked at his skill market and realized this could actually be a good thing. He knew at least this first level of the game well enough now that he should focus more on constitution and not just strength. He’d repeated the fifth level at least a dozen times because his health just wasn’t high enough (the irony wasn’t lost on him), and his overloaded strength stats could do a lot of damage, but _not if his health was at zero_. 

“Well, boys,” Wingman said, spreading his arms like he was trying to embody his own moniker, “I’d say that’s a good day’s work. The rats of the Badlands will now fear the Murmur Birds.” 

Falcon pointed at him accusingly. “You’re on your own if you’re calling us that.” 

Steve held up his hands at Wingman’s imploring gaze. “I’m with Falcon on this one.” 

“Bird Murmurs? Bird-urs? _Birders_ , that a thing!” 

“Bye, y’all,” Falcon said and reached for his log button. 

“Bye, Falcon,” Steve said at the same time as Wingman yelled, “Murmur and the Birds!” 

Steve was laughing and shaking his head as he hit his own logout button. 

~*~ 

Steve was antsy in his seat for the entirety of his classes the next day. He did his best to focus on the lecture in his English class, but he was already familiar with Hamlet and then Stark was once again using technobabble that probably wasn’t even in the course. Steve was pretty sure Professor Stark just got up and talked about whatever he thought was interesting and didn’t really care if it was relevant or if the class was following. 

The guy was excited about it, at least. 

Finally, finally the class ended and Steve approached the front with more than a little trepidation. “Oh, good. Yay. You don’t mind a field trip, do you? I’m probably not supposed to bring students back to my place or anything, but the computers here are slower than a drunk squirrel.” 

“Uh-” 

“Seriously, have you seen a drunk squirrel? There are these videos on YouTube where they eat fermented pumpkins or crab apples... “ 

“Field trip is fine,” Steve agreed. 

“Good. You’re going to watch a drunk squirrel during the drive, just so you know.” 

“I feel sufficiently warned,” Steve agreed, feeling off kilter. He’d taken the class, so he knew Stark was manic and had a tendency toward hyperfixation on the most interesting shiny idea in front of him, but he never would have guessed drunk squirrels. 

It was pretty funny to watch the squirrel jump up and down in the snow, though. 

Even knowing Stark was a billionaire couldn’t prepare Steve for the massive size of the house. It was covered in windows and natural light, every angle a darling of modern architectural design. He followed the professor down a set of stairs with a wall of glass on one side until the workplace came into view. “So this is the lab, it’s much more fun than the stuff they have at the school. Remind me to upgrade them or something before next semester.” 

Stark keyed in a code while Steve politely looked away until he heard the door open. “This is… a lot,” Steve admitted. “Uh… what exactly am I supposed to help you with?” 

“Hold please,” Stark said as he marched to the middle of the room and gestured. Suddenly the entire center of the room lit up with screens that seemed to be nothing more than projections. This was the kind of sci-fi that made Leviathan look like a kid’s game. Then again, Steve couldn’t call it sci-fi since it was real and in front of him. “This is where you skip all the boring typing and just point and shoot. If you want a shape, motion, different colors, you just…” 

Steve watched eagerly as the man demonstrated how he could literally draw in mid-air with a few properly executed swipes and pokes. Steve wandered into the circle and immediately started to create a tree, and then designed a squirrel climbing it. Stark poked at it and swiped back and forth to make the squirrel stumble back and forth and then hit a green check. 

“I just programmed it to be drunk,” he giggled, and if this wasn’t already a blast, hearing Tony Stark giggle would have sealed it for Steve. The squirrel now climbed the tree, falling to the side and backward randomly. “Great, so you get the basics. If you need more, ask me, Google won’t know. Now. What we’re working on is, uh… hard to explain. But basically, I need someone with a good eye for detail and realism and all that jazz to help design a realistic avatar.” 

“That’s it?” Steve asked before he could think better of it. “I mean, it seems like you could do that yourself…” 

“Nope, need a fresh pair of eyes. I’m trying to make a suit, avatar, whatever, to check out this game Leviathan but I need it to pass for a real, in-game avatar.” 

“So why not just make a real, in-game avatar?” 

“Because real, in-game avatars have to follow the rules. Duh. I want my own programming and algorithms, so-” 

“So you can cheat?” Steve interrupted. 

Stark rolled his eyes. “I’m not really interested in playing, Mr. Morality. I just want to poke around in the game. See what makes it tick.” 

“So you want to steal their programming?” 

“Jesus Christ, kid. Do I look like I need to copy someone else’s programming?” He sighed and rolled his eyes again. “Look, I have a friend… well, I say ‘friend’... who’s been playing this game for years and I just want to prank him a little bit, and to prank him I need to hack the game. I’ll reset all his stats when I’m done, but first I want to mess with him a bit.” 

Steve stared at him hard. He wasn’t sure if he believed the professor’s story, but there was one way to test it. “So you’re saying you think you can reset someone’s stats?” 

“Oh, definitely. I just need to poke around and confirm some theories.” 

“What if someone got PK’d and wants to restore their stats before they died?” 

“Yeah, sure. Consider your stats reset.” 

“You might not like the avatar I make you.” 

“That’s okay!” Stark replied gleefully, and Steve almost felt like he was being challenged. “I don’t need to look pretty, I just need to get in the doors.” 

Steve smirked a little. Stark was going to look very, very pretty. 


	2. The City

Chapter Two: The City 

The first day Stark went into the game, Steve didn’t go with him. He could hear enough to guess exactly what kind of reception the man was getting, however. The voice modulator that came with the game was garbage, but Stark had one that sounded like an actual human being, and not just a recording pitched up until it sounded like a chipmunk. A lot of people used voice modulators in Leviathan, but most tended to pitch their voice deeper. In fact, Steve automatically assumed that any guy using a voice modulator was actually a woman trying to avoid harassment. Since Steve had given Stark the best of the female gear and maybe a few bits of armor that accentuated some body parts the man didn’t actually have, he was definitely getting a first hand experience in why. 

When he finally logged out, his eyes were narrowed and he crossed his arms as he glared at Steve. “You made me a woman.” 

“Yep,” Steve agreed easily. 

“You made me a woman that I would absolutely bang if I were single, but I could barely even see myself in a spoon at the bar, it was dirty... I was supposed to be invisible!” 

“Professor-” 

“Oh my god, if you call me professor in my own lab again, you’re fired.” 

“Mr. Stark-” 

“ _Tony_.” 

“Look, I made you better than invisible. I made you underestimated. Female avatars are always considered to be weaker even though we all have the same stats. You want to poke around in the game code? You do it by being someone most people don’t associate with coding.” 

“That’s stupid.” 

“Yeah, but that’s how it is.” 

Stark continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes. “Fine, but tomorrow you’re coming with me. Those rats are… eugh.” Stark shuddered as if he were talking about murderous ghosts covered in contagion and slime. Steve was impressed that anyone could be so afraid? Grossed out? By virtual rats. A lot of Leviathan was beautiful and realistic, but the rats hadn’t gotten too much attention. They definitely weren’t on the individual-hairs-in-their-fur level. 

“You bet. Any luck figuring out how to reset my stats?” 

“No. Also, I hate this game.” 

Steve snorted a little. “Welcome to my life.” 

~*~ 

Two months passed with Stark playing the avatar Steve had designed, and no one was the wiser. It was determined after the first time that Steve accompanied the man that it did more harm than good. There was an incident involving a guy at a bar trying to negotiate something with Steve regarding “his” woman, and Steve might have socked him in the face, and it might have drawn a lot more attention than they wanted. Definitely best to avoid a repeat of that situation. 

In the meantime, Steve kept playing like he wasn’t considering cheating (but was it cheating to take back something that was stolen from you? It was really shitty that the rules were different in terms of XP loss when you hit level 30… it was like the game was designed for ruthless assholes and not people who worked hard and valued dedication) to get the three of them back to the Triskelion. He hadn’t mentioned Wingman or Falcon to Stark, but there was no way in hell Steve would let Stark reset his highest stats if it meant his teammates were left behind. He’d rather continue the long, slow fight to thirty. 

Steve liked Wingman and Falcon. A lot. They were good guys who fought hard and always seemed to know when he needed to stop but was too proud to ask. They didn’t play ahead, even though they could apparently clear the Badlands almost three times as fast without him. Steve wasn’t sure when he’d decided two people whose names he didn’t really know were his best friends, but some time during that two months, it had definitely happened. He looked forward to logging in each day and stopped caring about their progress. They didn’t seem to mind that the Badlands were going to take longer the second time around, and it was clear that they enjoyed the social time more than anything. Steve was pretty sure the two of them being roommates meant Wingman had told Falcon about his health issues, but neither of them ever brought it up. Steve kind of loved them. 

“Bet you I can one-hit that rabbit,” Wingman smirked. 

“Yeah, yeah, you and your shiny new crossbow,” Falcon rolled his eyes. “Man, you wait ‘til I loot my goddamn broadsword. You’re going back to the beginning of the level.” 

“Nah, brother, I think you got us mixed up,” Wingman insisted. 

Steve leaned casually against a tree. “I think both of you are forgetting who has the revive.” 

“Now I know you ain’t wasting a revive just to deny me my pettiness,” Falcon protested. 

Steve only raised an eyebrow in response. Falcon deflated and Steve’s silent _try me_ turned into a smirk of victory. 

Suddenly a red blip floated up to Steve and flashed. “Uh. This is new. Does it… attack?” 

Both of his friends burst into laughter and Wingman barely managed, “It’s an orb, Mur. Tap it.” 

So Steve tapped it and suddenly Stark’s Avatar shimmered into a half-transparent existence. “Kid, I need you to meet me at- Who are these two?” 

“That’s-” Steve started, but Wingman had already slung an arm around Steve. 

“I’m Wingman,” he said, his voice smooth as butter. “But the wings are only my second best feature.” Butter that was about three years past its sell-by date. 

“His best feature is his ability to shut up,” Steve agreed sagely. “What did you need St-ork?” 

“She can bring me a baby any day,” Falcon chuckled to Wingman at a volume that Stark definitely heard. 

“Hey,” Steve said sharply- because even if the joke was on them, he wasn’t going to hang out or fight alongside guys like that even if it meant being stuck in the Badlands forever. Falcon held up his hands in surrender and Steve glared until both of them walked away. He turned back to Stark. “What’s up?” 

“Nice friends you’ve got there.” 

“Yeah, I thought so until about up until a minute ago. I’ll talk to them.” 

“Whatever,” the billionaire shrugged. “I need you to meet me at that tavern, the one with the arthritic dragon on the sign.” 

“I think it’s supposed to be flexing its claws, but okay…” 

“Okay. Good.” He blinked out of existence, and a moment later another orb floated up to him. He tapped it and Stark’s avatar returned to its half existence. “Are your friends decent fighters? Bring them.” 

“I-” 

“Okay, see you soon!” 

Steve sighed as Stark vanished again. He turned toward his party who were standing by some trees, not bothering to hide their interest. Steve rolled his eyes as Wingman nodded upward as if to suggest Steve was in some kind of relationship. 

The first thing Falcon said when he approached was, “Hey, man, I wasn’t trying to creep on your girl. Sometimes I make jokes without thinking.” 

“Thanks,” Steve said. He contemplated correcting the guy, but decided it might be more entertaining not to. “We’re meeting at the Dragon Claw Pub, and apparently you’re invited. Sounds like fighting skills are encouraged.” 

“The Dragon Claw?” Wingman echoed. “I know we blew through the Badlands pretty fast the first time, but I think we would’ve noticed a raid or something there.” 

“Well, Stork’s kind of a genius.” 

“Think it’ll level us up faster?” Falcon asked eagerly. 

Steve nodded. “I can practically see the charisma park again.” 

As if invoking the name gave some kind of bonus, a plus one appeared in front of him as they reached whatever conversational threshold earned a charisma point in the Badlands. Steve was getting tired by the time they reached the Pub, but he had a feeling something important was happening. Part of him still wasn’t convinced Stark just wanted to prank a friend, but he was getting too curious to refuse to help. 

When they arrived, the pub was completely empty except for NPCs and Stark was carving up the door to the back room of the tavern. “You sure she’s a genius?” Falcon asked dubiously. 

“Uh… Yes?” Steve replied, though he was just as confused. 

With a glance over his shoulder, Stark finally noticed the trio. “Oh, good. Almost done, come on. We’re going on a field trip.” 

He made a few more slices and twists that Steve realized were ones and zeroes. Then he turned and gestured for Steve to come closer. Steve did. Stark gestured again. Awkwardly, Steve stepped forward again. Again, Stark waved his hand for Steve to get closer. Finally, Steve was about a foot away and Stark reached out and tapped his nose with a self-satisfied, “Boop!” 

“Stark, what the hell-” Steve started to protest until he saw his entire field of vision fill up with plus ones and realized his stats were going back up and were then eclipsed by the text proclaiming him level thirty. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. Oh. You’re welcome. Now, these two. Do they need a bippity boppity boop or are they just noobs?” 

“Yeah, bippity boppity,” Steve said absently as he stepped aside to go through his inventory, which was showing new items. They weren’t new. All of his old gear was back. Steve wasted no time equipping his better weaponry and armor. 

By the time Steve had resurfaced, the rest of his party had leveled back up and were enthusing about their inventories and stats, before Falcon finally rounded on Steve. “Who the hell is your girlfriend and why is she just joining us now?” 

“Girlfriend?” Stark repeated as Steve chuckled to himself. “Okay, bird brains, let’s get one thing straight. I am no one’s girlfriend, maybe in your dreams, definitely in your dreams, I am one hot tamale. Never in your life. Now. To Narnia.” 

“That door doesn’t open. It’s the back room of the bar,” Wingman said, clearly having not yet realized just what kind of rule-breaking genius Stark was. 

“Do you like ruining people’s one-liners?” Stark asked, narrowing his eyes. “Okay, just back up a few sentences.” He took a breath and repeated, “To Narnia,” before dramatically pushing the door open. 

On the other side lay stone cobbled paths and stone walls. Steve understood now why Stark had picked the most boring and typically empty Pub in the game. “Holy shit, did you just open up a door to the city in a fucking bar?” Wingman breathed. 

Stark smiled smugly again. “No need to apologize. Time to go.” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about going into _the_ city before he’d leveled up and earned it, but he supposed Falcon and Wingman could compensate for his lack of skills. “Okay, so what we want is up there,” Stark pointed to a stone palace at the top of the hill. “Don’t worry about the quest or whatever. You can come back later. Right now, you’re getting me up there.” 

“Welcome, traveler,” greeted a woman in a white dress that reminded Steve of ancient Greece. “I am afraid you have come to Troy during a most troubled time. Our armies-” 

“Piss off,” muttered Stark impatiently as he Booped her and she actually vanished. Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to know how Stark had figured out to break the game so thoroughly so quickly. 

“So, uh, Stork,” Wingman began nervously. “Are you, like, one of the devs or what?” 

“Or what,” Stark confirmed. He had his hand in front of him and Steve noticed he was wearing a strange bracelet with large, dark grey beads. It looked like he was reading something. He sounded almost bored when he suddenly said, “Greeks incoming, someone do something.” 

Stark was clearly seeing something they weren’t. Steve wasted no time drawing his crossbow while Wingman and Falcon were still trying to understand what was happening. Ancient Greek soldiers rounded the corner and Steve fired. It took three of his arrows to take down the one. Incidentally, it also took three of his arrows for the rest of his party to figure out they needed to fight. 

It was a squad of half a dozen soldiers, and the three of them managed to dispatch them fairly quickly. As they all caught their breath (except for Steve, who was perpetually out of breath when they played this game), Falcon gave Stark a sideways look. “Hold up. How come you didn’t just Boop these soldiers? And why didn’t you help fight?” 

“Mm, yeah,” Stark replied as he moved his hand side to side, continuing to read (or whatever he was doing). “I can restore deleted files, but I haven’t been in game long enough to really get any gear.” 

Falcon had pointed at Stark’s shoulder and was clearly looking through his stats while the billionaire explained. “You’re level one?!” 

“What?” Wingman walked over to point at Stark’s shoulder himself.. 

“Yeah, I’m mostly here to figure out how the game works,” Stark shrugged. “And as for the soldiers… I haven’t hacked the combat mechanics yet, and do I look like I can get close enough to a hostile MOB to Boop it?” 

“With these stats, you wouldn’t even see ‘em coming,” Wingman laughed. “So, wait. Are you some kinda super secret spy lady?” 

“Nope,” Stark replied. He pointed his palm with the bracelet to the right. “No Greeks this way.” 

“Corporate espionage?” suggested Falcon. 

“Nope,” Stark sighed. “And I repeat, no Greeks this way. If you don’t want to help me get to the top, I’ll turn you back into a pumpkin and send you home.” He held up his Booping finger threateningly. 

“You got it, Stork,” Falcon finally conceded. Wingman started laughing. “What?” 

“Murmur and the birds,” Wingman shook his head. 

Steve smirked and followed as they all headed down the side path, less worn than some of the others. That was another amazing thing about Leviathan’s programming: player travel actually wore paths into the ground. You could tell where the best quests were by how clear the path was. Of course, not every aspect of the game had been discovered, but the paths were generally reliable. This one probably didn’t lead to anything at all, which would explain the lack of enemies and also the lack of wear. 

Once again, Stark pulled out his starter knife and began carving binary into an innocuous part of the landscape- this time the mouth of a cave. It was small, they’d have to crawl if they wanted to get through, and Steve was already dreading it. He reached out with his toe and confirmed his suspicion that it was just furniture. This wasn’t a cave actually meant for player exploration any more than the trees or flowers. Yet, once Stark finished his not-so-artistic carvings, it became one. 

“Okay,” he announced and gestured at them. 

“Ladies first?” Wingman said hesitantly. “Where exactly are we going?” 

Stark rolled his eyes. “One, I have no stats so I will not be going first, and two, the palace. Duh.” 

Falcon dramatically pushed Wingman aside and dropped to his knees before heading toward the cave. “You heard the lady,” he said before heading in. 

Wingman followed and Steve looked nervously at Stark. “Crawling isn’t necessarily my forte…” 

“It’s a short tunnel, promise,” Stark replied with an air of understanding, and Steve got the impression he’d done it that way intentionally. 

True to his word, the tunnel wasn’t too bad, but Steve was still wearing down fast. They’d been in the Badlands for most of his daily hour already, and this was really pushing it. Once he was on his feet again, Wingman slung an arm around him and Steve tried to be less obvious about how tired he was. “You realize Falcon and I haven’t even gotten this far in the game? We got maybe halfway up the path, clearing bandits before we had to retreat and recoup at the Triskelion. Your friend is kind of amazing.” 

“Aren’t I though?” Stark called over his shoulder and Steve chuckled to himself as Wingman blanched. “Okay, who’s lifting the big heavy lid?” 

Steve glanced at the rest of his party and they all moved almost in unison to the giant, stone well in the middle of the room. All three of them moved around it and started to lift. Steve could feel his kit vibrating on his arms in reality, probably to indicate that he shouldn’t be able to lift the thing he was trying to lift, and it was locking in place so he couldn’t properly bend his arms. He could hear Falcon and Wingman straining as well but they managed to budge it up just long enough for Stark to drop what looked like a penny down it. 

“Okay, good, let’s go before someone upstairs figures out we were here,” Stark said and they all dropped the stone at once. Steve felt, once again, like a limp noodle. He wanted to log out then and there, but Stark was right. They would get in serious trouble if anyone found them here. 

Steve was lagging badly, and he almost didn’t make it out of the cave. Wingman slung an arm around him again and said quietly, “Just put on movement lock, I can push your avatar the rest of the way.” 

Steve wanted to argue. He really did. 

He did as Wingman suggested and collapsed on his bed. Maybe he should invest in one of those disability kits. Maybe now that they were all leveled back up, Wingman and Falcon wouldn’t want him in their party, but it felt like they were friends now. It sort of sucked to have to bail on them all the time, and now that they were back to being much higher level than him? They’d basically just be re-playing old quests to humor him. They probably wouldn’t see it that way, but Steve had spent too much time feeling like a charity case because people always held back for him. He’d really liked their time in the Badlands together, even if it had been due to less than stellar circumstances. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was on someone else’s level without them stooping down to his. Since Falcon was so busy with school, it didn’t even matter that Steve couldn’t play for very long because neither could he. 

“So what do I need to level to beat the City with you guys?” he asked. 

Wingman’s face split into a wide grin. “I mean, your charisma’s probably good. I’d definitely go for the strength and weapons stuff like the Greeter says. But maybe not when there’s PK-ers around.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve agreed. “Though I bet they’ll be surprised to see us.” 

“Murmur, they won’t even remember us, bud. Those kinds of guys do this crap all the time. It’s not personal, they’re just trolls.” 

“If you guys want to keep playing… I mean, I’m pretty far behind.” 

“That’s okay. Falcon and I haven’t beat it yet and even a thirty would be a help,” he shrugged. 

“I mean… I’m thinking about getting one of the disability kits? To catch up?” 

Wingman was quiet for a moment. “Aren’t those things glitchy as hell?” 

Steve half shrugged and let his eyes close. His avatar probably still looked wide awake even though it was motionless. “Yeah…” 

“Murmur, if you want to do that, you can. But Falcon and I don’t mind you being lower level. It’s just a game, and we play more to hang out than win.” 

Steve smiled. “You guys are pretty great.” 

“I know,” Wingman replied as they finally reached the door back to the Badlands. Once they were through, everyone said their goodbyes and logged out. 

Steve barely made it to classes the next day and was pissed as hell to find out their programming professor had called in sick. If Steve could make it in after yesterday, Stark sure as hell could. Steve was so tired he couldn’t even stalk angrily down the sidewalk like he wanted to. In fact, he couldn’t even make it all the way down the sidewalk before he had to sit down and use his inhaler. 

“Hey, man, you okay?” 

Steve looked up at the familiar voice. Falcon had that armor that was sort of a mask, but Steve could see a little resemblance in this guy. “Falcon?” he asked before he could think about how weird that sounded in response to the question. 

The guy blinked at him and then squinted. “No fucking shit. Murmur?” 

Steve actually laughed a little. “We’ve been playing that stupid game for months and all this time we go to the same damn school.” 

“I walk this way three times a week and I’m only just now running into you. This is nuts.” 

“Well, I normally have class now, but it was cancelled.” 

Falcon was already sitting next to him. “Riley’s gonna flip when he finds out.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh shit. Yeah. Wingman. His real name’s Riley. I’m Sam,” Falcon said, extending his hand to shake. 

Steve took the hand. “Steve.” 

“Nice to meet you, Steve. We live in the B dorms and we’re ordering pizza if you want to hang out and watch terrible movies.” 

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only were Wingman and Falcon now real people, he was being invited to hang out with them. In person. At their dorm. On the campus where apparently all three of them went to the same school. “Yeah. Okay,” he agreed. 

They looked up as someone approached with a harried, “Rogers.” 

“Hey, Happy, what’s wrong?” 

Happy glanced at Falcon- no, at Sam, Steve corrected himself- and then back at Steve. “Tony needs your help with the project.” 

“Is that why he cancelled class?” Steve asked dubiously. He explained, “I’m working on an extra credit project with the professor. It’s a programming thing.” 

“I was waiting by the road, but I guess you took a detour. He said you’d be out about now…” 

Steve sighed. “I sort of have plans… Does he actually need me?” 

“Hey, Steve, don’t worry about it,” Sam insisted easily. “We do this every week. Maybe even twice a week.” 

“Okay,” Steve agreed, though he wasn’t happy about it. He really wanted to meet Wingman (Riley) and eat pizza and watch bad movies. He followed Happy to the car and did his best not to look like a kicked puppy. He really didn’t need Sam catching on that Steve literally had no friends. 

Stark looked like he hadn’t slept, and he didn’t even say hello before he was putting one of those weird metal-bead-bracelets on Steve’s hand, giving him a helmet, and then saying, “Here. Go sit over there and put this on.” 

Steve looked at the helmet dubiously. ”Why?” 

“Because I need you and your friends to get stronger, and it’ll go faster if… you have that.” 

It suddenly occurred to Steve what he was holding. He could also hear the unspoken comment about how easily he tired out in the pause. “This doesn’t look like any disability kit I’ve ever seen.” 

“Of course not, those are crap. I spent all night on that, so it should actually work.” 

Steve raised his eyebrows. Tony Stark had made him a custom kit? “Okay… how does it work?” 

“Put the helmet on,” Stark rolled his eyes. “I’ve got a penny to find.” 

Steve sighed, wishing he had any idea what was going on with Tony Stark and this game. He wasn’t sure he was going to find out ever, but his best chance of doing so was probably tolevel up. So he put the helmet on. 

The user interface popped up immediately and dropped Steve somewhere random in the Badlands. Instructions weren’t written this time. A male voice he didn’t recognize was in his ear, instructing him to touch or roll a certain number of beads on the bracelet to move or attack. All Steve had to do was look and hold his finger to one bead and his avatar would walk in that direction. It felt weird to move while he was still sitting in a chair. It felt even weirder to roll two beads and swing his sword at whatever his eyes were focused on. He laid a finger on each of four beads to bring up the menu. Options would highlight if he was looking at them, and he was instructed to blink twice to select the option. 

Steve travelled to the Triskelion without any trouble. Stark’s kit was intuitive and ridiculously easy to navigate with. Steve could play all day if he wanted to like this… but that wasn’t why he’d picked Leviathan. He’d wanted to move… Maybe he’d feel less guilty about it if he still did an hour in his regular kit. The guys who killed him and Wingman were in the strength room, so Steve kept moving until he found the shooting range and got used to rolling three beads for his ranged attack. The training room was actually great. Steve never got his skills to level this quickly in combat. Plus, since the movements were so much smaller, he could fire more rapidly, which meant that he’d level faster and could do more damage in combat. 

After what felt like nothing, his ranged skill was maxed out for level thirty. Steve laughed a little in disbelief. At this rate, he might actually catch up to the rest of his party. The strength room was finally empty, so Steve went in and rolled his two beads for melee attacks to the extreme misfortune of one practice dummy. No matter how much he hit it, none of the damage showed, though he kept getting xp. Apparently these were the one thing in the game that didn’t show realistic wear. 

He hit level thirty-one and logged out. His stomach was grumbling angrily and Steve realized it was late enough that he couldn’t catch a bus if he wanted to. 

“Have fun?” Stark asked without looking up from the computer he was rapidly typing on. 

“I gained an entire level in a day,” Steve informed him in disbelief. 

“Oh, yeah. I gave you some experience modifiers to speed things up.” 

Steve frowned. “That’s cheating.” 

Stark stiffened and looked at the ceiling as if to ask God why he was being tested. He looked at Steve. “I can take it back if you want.” 

Steve thought seriously about it, and Stark sensed his moment of weakness. “It’s a game, and you’ve put way more work into it than anyone else. Just take the bonus for now, I’ll take it back later… everything will balance out.” 

“Yeah,” mumbled Steve, though he wasn’t so sure. “I guess.” 

“Good, so take the stuff, go home, get some sleep, I’ll see you in class.” 

~*~ 

Steve spent most of his spare time in Leviathan now. He still did an hour with his regular kit (and its lack of xp modifiers) but even with that hour, he only took about a week to hit level forty. Falcon and Wingman showed up a couple times and even kept him company while they all grinded their skills, but they didn’t have the promised pizza night until the day Falcon finally noticed Steve’s level. 

“Holy shit, Murmur, have you slept?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, trying not to feel defensive. 

“Dude, I’m glad you got one of those kits and all, but please log the hell out and spend some time outside.” 

Steve laughed as he shot some more arrows. “Outside has a lot of allergies for me. That’s why I got Leviathan in the first place, Falcon. So I could do something fun and exercise-like inside.” 

“Okay, well you don’t have to go literally outside. Just, like, leave your room. Look at something offline for a while.” 

“Nervous I’m gonna pass you?” Steve teased. 

“Man, I’m nervous you’re becoming a hermit. Come eat pizza. Bring your phone so I can put my number in it and text you to get the hell off this game once in a while.” 

Steve laughed. “Okay, but I’m only coming for the pizza.” 

“Well, it is damn good pizza. We’re in room fifty-eight.” 

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “I’m off campus though, so it’s gonna be a while. Buses.” 

“Well, we ain’t even ordered the pizza yet, so it might not be ice cold by the time you get here.” 

Steve just laughed again as he logged out and found his shoes. He hadn’t done his hour yet, so maybe he could justify not doing it at all since he had to walk across campus again. He also wouldn’t mind hanging out with these guys all night. He glanced at the kit for a moment before shoving it in his bag and bringing it. Just in case. 

No, Steve did not have a problem. 

Steve hoisted the full bag onto his back. 

Okay, he might have a problem. But these guys were understanding and played quite a bit themselves. 

Sam still laughed at him when he realized he’d brought his kit. “Look, Forty, we get it. You’re blasting past us all.” 

“No, I wasn’t… it was just…” 

“I’m not playing that game anymore tonight. Now eat some pizza and help us pick something terrible to make fun of.” 

Steve had never laughed so much in his life. His face hurt from smiling so much, and he almost needed his inhaler at one point. The movie ended and they all seemed to settle in a bit more. Steve looked at the clock and swore. “Last bus was twenty minutes ago…” 

Sam shrugged. “You can crash here. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Thanks… Sorry, I should have kept a better eye on the time.” 

“Seriously, Steve,” Sam insisted as he got up. “What’s the point of having a couch if no one ever crashes on it?” 

“Uh,” Steve frowned. “Sitting. The exact thing you were just doing?” 

“Just let me get you a blanket,” Sam replied in playful annoyance. “Tryna be nice and this guy’s poking holes in my logic.” 

“If that’s what you call logic,” Steve smirked. 

“Oh, that’s how it is?” Sam asked as he dumped the blanket on Steve’s head. 

“That’s how it is,” Steve agreed and Riley snorted next to him. 

“Just stay out of the beers in the fridge. We don’t do underage drinking here.” 

Steve frowned. “I mean, I don’t really drink, but I’m not underage.” 

“I thought you said you were a sophomore?” 

“Yeah, but I’m twenty-four” 

Sam looked at Riley accusingly. “Man, we could have had a beer with that pizza.” 

“Man, shut up,” RIley rolled his eyes as Sam collapsed back into the couch on Steve’s other side. “So, you take some time off or what?” 

Steve gritted his teeth. It was an innocent enough question, but there was no way to answer it without making things awkward. Even brushing it off would make it obvious it wasn’t a nice answer. “Yeah… My mom was sick and I was taking care of her… And I’m part time, so the credits don’t stack as fast. Why I’m not allowed to live on campus.” 

“She okay now?” Riley asked quietly. It seemed like he already knew the answer. 

“She passed about three years ago,” Steve replied. “Not to, like, bring things down or anything.” 

Riley squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Friends are for bringing down. Me and Sam started late. Met in the Air Force. You know that program where you serve and then they pay for your college?” 

Steve’s eyes were a little wide. “Wow, so you guys are, like, actual heroes.” 

Sam snorted. “Tone it down, Forty,” he teased him. “We didn’t exactly see a lot of combat.” 

“But you did see some?” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded and grew serious. “My focus is psychology. I want to work with vets. Riley’s studying to be a real doctor. We were pararescue, thinking about teaming up. Opening our own practice. He keeps ‘em healthy on the outside, I take care of the inside.” 

Steve grinned. “That sounds really great.” 

“We think so too,” Riley agreed. “Did you want to get some sleep? We’re not keeping you up, right?” 

“I don’t exactly have a bedtime,” Steve snickered. 

“Dude, I don’t know your life. Maybe you got early class or you’re a freak who actually has a sleep schedule.” 

Steve laughed again, but it wasn’t the loud, bellyaching laughter they’d all had during the movie. It was comfortable, relaxed. He really liked Riley and Sam. They were fun, and he felt close to them in this moment, even if they were still making fun of each other. “I’m alright, but I should probably sleep soon so I can get out of here and go home for some fresh clothes and stuff.” 

“You got it, Forty,” Riley said and bumped their elbows before standing. 

“You guys really don’t need to keep calling me that.” 

Sam stood and saluted, earning an eye roll from Steve. “Good night, Forty,” he said and turned to go to his room. 

Steve loved his friends. 

~*~ 

“Thank you, traveler,” the city’s Greeter said as they turned in the quest. Now that they’d gone into the City through the front door (for lack of a better term), the game had outfitted them in period appropriate clothing so that they wouldn’t be detected by the villagers. It didn’t seem necessary, but it was a nice touch. Thankfully, it behaved more like a costume or a mirage than anything else. Steve liked his armor’s stats, and preferred to keep them. The Roman soldier outfit probably wasn’t too bad, but how good could it be with his limbs mostly bare? 

They’d cleared what had to be every alley, cellar, basement, path, and field in Troy of soldiers and bandits at this point. What else could she possibly demand of them before they got to the main storyline? “Now that our people are safe, there is only one thing we need help with. Outside our gates, the Greeks have left a gift-” 

“Oh, hell no,” Sam spoke over her, though she kept speaking as if he hadn’t. 

“-of peace. Now that it is safe to open the gates, we can bring it inside. Please find their general and thank them for this truce.” 

Sam was shaking his head as Riley doubled over laughing. “Hang on, I read about this. We’re about to get a mission update from the Triskelion- yep.” 

All three of them received a message orb and hit them in unison. Three identical Triskelion Greeters began to tell them that their mission was to protect time at all costs, that the Greek general was an enemy agent trying to derail time and that they must recruit soldiers to help destroy the city. _No survivors,_ was the final word of the missive, made even creepier by the fact that it was being spoken in triplicate. The Greeters all vanished and Steve looked at his party. Riley wasn’t laughing anymore. “What the actual fuck?” Steve demanded. 

“Yeah, I definitely read some spoilers, but that was not in it,” Riley agreed. “We have to make sure everyone dies? I know they’re NPCs, but damn.” 

“I don’t know if I like this game anymore,” Sam nodded. 

Steve sighed. “I guess it makes sense?” he said. “If the Triskelion is about preserving time… Still. The NPCs we’re being told to kill are just people, not bandits or soldiers… There’s even some kid NPCs, this is fucked up.” 

“Y’all wanna quit?” Riley asked seriously. 

The three of them went quiet. “It’s not like they’re real people,” Sam admitted grudgingly. “It’s… just one quest, right? We know we’re not going to suddenly become serial killers after this.” 

Steve nodded. “We’ve come too far to just bail. Let’s… get it over with. Where do we find the Greek general?” 

“The last we heard, their camp was just over the hill,” the Greeter said, finally keying in to their conversation again. “Thank you so much, kind traveler.” 

So they headed over the hill. Predictably the general knew who they were. “Agents!” he hissed and spat at their feet. “I will not allow you to hurt the people of Troy! This war is over. I have made peace!” 

“And that’s real nice and all,” Sam nodded, “but if that city doesn’t die, it’s gonna break time or some shit, so this army has got to go and do its job.” 

“The army is loyal to me,” the general insisted. “If you want them, you’ll have to kill me.” 

Steve shot the general with his crossbow. He tried not to meet Sam or Riley’s gaze, but he knew they probably looked as shocked as he felt. He hadn’t meant for it to seem so easy, but he didn’t have to draw his weapons like they did. Stark’s kit meant he just had to move a finger. The general lunged for him and he shot again. It took half a dozen arrows before he went down and he marched forward, hoping his avatar wasn’t stepping on the corpse. “Army! Attack!” he yelled, and they all flooded the gates while the poor Trojans were bringing in the horse. 

“Not exactly how it was supposed to go, but I guess results are what matter to this game,” Riley muttered. “They… sort of went in with the horse…” 

“You think the army will take care of it?” Steve asked. “ I don’t particularly feel like slaughtering innocent NPCs.” 

“Somehow I get the feeling we aren’t getting off that easy,” Sam replied. 

The trio walked into the city. Most of it was on fire, there were piles of bodies, what the hell was this game rated? A little girl was screaming in the middle of the street, and Steve knew in his gut the army wasn’t going to kill her. They were supposed to. 

“Man, this is so fucked up,” Sam repeated. 

“Come on,” Riley said darkly, and Steve wondered if this was bringing back bad memories. Riley cut the girl down with one swing of his sword and kept walking. There were more civilians left behind by the army and Steve realized they all had a counter in the bottom of their screens that was going down every time they killed another Trojan. 

Finally, they reached the middle of the city, the castle with the well. On top of the well was the Greeter. “Kind traveler, thank goodness you’re here. Have you come to save us yet again?” 

Steve looked past her, not wanting to see who he was killing. That’s when he saw him. Dressed all in black, eyes just a little too alive for an NPC. Aside from the color, his gear was the exact same as the other Greek soldiers. And his mask covered his face. The only bit of color on him was the red star painted onto the left shoulder of his armor. The soldier nodded at Steve and he rolled two beads before he could change his mind. He winced and, when he opened his eyes again, the soldier was gone. 

Light shone from behind them and the Triskelion Greeter stood in the doorway they’d come in through. “Well done, agents,” she congratulated them. “You have saved the City, and kept time intact. You now have additional privileges and access to private training resources. New skills are available to learn. Please return to headquarters.” 

With that, she vanished and the path behind her led back to the Triskelion instead of the ruined city they’d just “saved.” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he felt. 


	3. The Shore

Chapter Three: The Shore 

It was a couple of weeks before Steve managed to log back in to Leviathan. He understood why the plot had gone the way it had. The devs probably thought they were being clever or edgy. Still, it didn’t sit right with him. Having them kill kids- even fake ones- was too much. Steve knew there were some gamers who loved that kind of thing, thought it was funny to do fucked up shit in games they’d never do in real life, but that wasn’t him. He was glad to know it wasn’t Riley or Sam either. At least he didn’t feel as guilty about cheating with Stark’s mods. 

So, finally, he accepted that the devs had done something he hated in a game that he mostly loved, and logged back in to see what new privileges and skills he had. 

He definitely took advantage of his elevator privileges to finally access his dorm and put a bunch of gear in storage only to take it back out when he realized there was a digital shop in each room so he could sell the extra stuff without having to travel. There was a new floor he had access to with the promised new skills to train, and he was very excited about the first aid one. He maxed that out immediately, and his kit quickly adapted to add a new motion where he dragged a finger across two or more beads for each of the new skills. The next one was firearms. Steve skipped that one for now. The rest involved cooking, fishing, navigation, and… sailing? Steve was definitely curious about the next storyline. 

Steve poured himself into maxing out the new skills, leveling every day to the point where Riley and Sam might not catch up. Riley wasn’t on as much as Steve, but he was on a lot. It was becoming obvious Sam didn’t like how much time the pair of them were spending in game. The text came just after he left Stark’s class on a Wednesday, and he realized Sam was waiting for him on the bench where they’d first met. 

“Oh, good, you made it,” Sam said, as if Steve had planned this meeting, and wasn’t just trying to go home. Sam’s phone pinged with the text Steve had just sent, declining the offer of pizza and bad movies. Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Steve a judgey look. “I wasn’t asking. You and Riley are banned from that game tonight- and don’t tell me you had plans, you don’t have any other friends, you old-ass, sophomore hermit.” 

Steve stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. “Yeah, fine,” he agreed. “I guess you need a chance to try to catch up.” 

Sam shook his head. “Man, I’m serious. There’s something wrong with that game, and y’all continuing to play it all day every day is creepy as hell.” 

“Look, the City definitely sucked, but everything else about Leviathan has been great. It’s so fucking real in there, Sam…” 

“Yeah, that’s a whole other thing you got me worried about now, Steve.” 

“You know what I mean, asshole. I’m a goddamn artist. I love the design.” 

“Well, no Leviathan tonight. Pizza, Sharknado, maybe a beer? Huh? Yes? I really want to see your punk ass drunk,” Sam grinned. 

“I’m a little insulted that you think it’s only gonna take one beer,” Steve said, narrowing his eyes. 

“You said you don’t drink, you’re probably not even a hundred pounds… I think one will be enough.” 

Steve laughed and punched Sam in the arm. “Jerk.” 

“That’s how it is, Steve.” 

Steve refused to admit that Sam was right and he was already tipsy after one beer, so he ate a slice of pizza as steadily as he could and tried to act normal. Riley got up halfway through the movie and brought them all another round. Somewhere in Steve’s brain, it registered that Riley was extra quiet, and they were all laughing, but something was different. Off. Steve headed to the bathroom halfway through his second beer (and no, he was not drunk, he just liked swaying when he walked, thank you, Sam) and Riley did the same after he came back. 

“You see it too, right?” Sam asked, his voice low once Riley was gone. 

“See what?” 

“That game got to him. He’s not okay. Kids is a trigger for him. He’s been like this ever since, won’t snap out of it… just keeps diving deeper into that game and it’s making it worse.” 

Steve squirmed a little as he heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on. “Worse how?” 

“He doesn’t smile as big or laugh as hard… I always gotta say hi to him first anymore. It’s like he’s a fucking zombie.” 

They had to stop talking about him as he walked back into the room and plopped down next to Steve. Sam excused himself next and gave Steve a look, like he was supposed to do something. 

“So apparently Sam’s worried about you and wants me to tell you instead of just talking to you himself,” Steve told Riley. 

“Man, you know what subtlety is?” Sam yelled from down the hall before the bathroom door shut. 

Riley didn’t laugh. He looked annoyed. “There’s nothing to worry about.” 

“I mean, you do seem kind of… down?” 

Riley let his head fall back against the couch. “I’m fine, and y’all can stop.” 

“Okay. I mean… You’d tell us if something was wrong, right?” Steve asked quietly. 

“Rogers. Relax. I’m just… I think something’s off about the game. There was this soldier-” 

“In black, right?” Steve said, getting intense again. 

“Yeah, with a red star on his shoulder…” 

“Fuck, I thought I imagined that,” Steve admitted with a shaky laugh. “What about him?” 

“I saw him again in the mess hall,” Riley admitted. “He’s there every day now. I mean, I assume it’s him. It’s the same build, just different clothes. Kind of like a pirate almost? I mean, not pegleg-eyepatch-pirate, but, like, renaissance faire pirate. All in black. Just sits at a table in the corner and doesn’t move.” 

Steve frowned. “Maybe he’s an easter egg?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Riley agreed, though he still seemed troubled. “Maybe it’s nothing. I just have this feeling.” 

Sam returned then and sank into the couch. “I’m just worried about you, man,” he sighed. “You too, Steve. It ain’t healthy, and both of y’all are weird now.” 

“You’re weird,” Steve mumbled. 

“You’re drunk,” Riley added. 

“We’re all drunk together,” Sam sighed. “I just miss y’all. Don’t know what I’d do if something happened.” 

“Jesus, Sam,” Riley groaned. “We’re playing a game. We’re not having some emotional crisis, okay? Chill out.” 

“Alright, alright. I’m chill. Just… say hi first once in a while.” 

Things were weird, but they got a little less weird by the end of the movie. They were all laughing again, and it didn’t feel quite as forced. Steve’s head was very, very fuzzy and it was nice. He wasn’t sure exactly when or how he’d ended up with his head on Riley’s shoulder, but the guy responded by slinging an arm around him like he did to Steve’s avatar- only Steve was a bit smaller, so it ended up more cuddly than either of them had intended. Neither of them moved to rectify the situation, and Steve vaguely registered Sam covering them with a blanket before he passed out. 

~*~ 

Steve didn’t have class on Tuesday or Thursday, so the next morning he was able to go straight home and log in. He wanted to see the soldier in the mess hall. Sure enough, there he was in the corner, looking creepy as hell. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to cross the hall and sit down at the table with him. He stared at the guy. His eyes were definitely more like a player’s than an NPC’s. “Who are you?” he asked. The guy only held Steve’s gaze without reply. Steve waited another moment, trying and failing to get a read. With a sigh, he stood and went back to the training rooms. It was about time he trained his firearms skill at all. The game didn’t give skills randomly. You needed pretty much all of them. Something like firearms was probably something he didn’t want to skip, even if he did want to skip it. 

He was about two points away from maxing it out when a message orb came floating up to him. He tapped it. “Hey, man,” the semi-transparent version of Wingman greeted him. “You got time to meet me in the Badlands? I think I found something.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Steve agreed. “Can you give me five? I’m just about to max out this skill.” 

“You can really level, huh?” Riley marvelled. “Yeah, meet me at the Dragon Claw when you’re done.” 

“Will do,” Steve agreed. He wondered what Riley was up to, and was just about to port when yet another message orb approached him. This time it was Stark’s avatar. 

“Hey, pumpkin, I need an escort.” 

“Actually I-” 

“Was just clearing your schedule? Great. I’m drawing you a door.” 

Stark disappeared and Steve grumbled in annoyance. He pulled up Riley in his friends list and tried to send him an orb, but he had logged out. With a sigh, Steve recorded an apology for taking so long and offered to reschedule whenever he was on again and sent it to the guy’s inbox. Just in time for Stark to poke his head out from under the weapons table. 

“Come on, Short Round, I need you to get me through a cave.” 

Steve sighed and crawled under the table and into the portal Stark had made him only to find himself at the foot of Bad Mountain. It had a real name, but none of the players ever called it that to the point where Steve couldn’t even remember what it was. It was called Bad Mountain because it was in the Badlands, but mostly it was called that because all you could do there was farm experience. There were loads of monsters that never dropped anything and there was no loot even if you made it all the way through. The monsters also had ridiculous respawn rates, so you were guaranteed to have to kill everything you already killed on the way in if you wanted to get back out. 

It was, as its name implied, Bad. 

“Stark, you’re not actually gonna make me run Bad Mountain by myself?” 

“No, of course not. I’m here to keep you company with witty banter, and we can walk. No running necessary.” 

Steve let out a dramatic sigh and headed for the mountain. He already regretted answering that second orb. If only they came with orb ID so he could screen his orb calls. Then he wouldn’t be here stabbing rats and shooting down orcs. 

Eventually, they reached the top of the cave and there was, predictably, nothing. Stark crossed to the opposite side of the room and pet a boulder. Steve stared at him. “What? I needed to rub the lucky rock,” Stark insisted. “We can go now.” 

Steve killed everything extra hard on the way back down. 

The next day, Steve got a text from Sam in the middle of Stark’s class. 

_Have you seen Riley?_

_No, he wanted me to meet him in-game, but I took too long and he logged. SR_

_Yeah, he said he had to meet someone, but he didn’t come home last night._

_Was it a girl? SR_

_He didn’t tell me._

_Is he answering his phone? SR_

_Straight to voicemail._

_He’s probably fine. Crashing at their place, phone died, hasn’t noticed yet. I’m sure he’s fine. SR_

Steve’s text sounded a lot more certain than he felt. It was weird timing. His gut said something was wrong. He’d been thinking something was wrong the whole time, but now he thought something was _really_ wrong. “Excuse me. Artsy fartsy. What’s with the texting in my class? Not exciting enough for you?” Stark called out. Steve felt his face turn dark red as he put his phone away. “No, that’s okay. I can make things more exciting. Everyone likes exciting, right?” 

And with that, Stark turned on some music and started dancing (badly) as he lectured. Steve had no idea who he’d agreed to help hack a game. 

Fuck. 

What if this was Steve’s fault? Riley had even said the stuff in the City wasn’t part of the spoilers… and it had happened after they’d helped Stark throw something into the well. He stood abruptly and Stark cut the music. “Is my dancing not good enough? I always knew I should have taken those lessons. Seriously, Rogers, where’s the fire?” 

“I just have an emergency,” he replied. “Sorry.” 

He rushed out of the room and immediately headed for Sam and Riley’s dorm. He was wheezing by the time he got there and barely let Sam get him inside before he was gasping out his theory. “And what if Riley figured it out and Stark- did something to him? To-to keep him quiet?” 

Sam’s face had gone hard. “I’m really tempted to make jokes about Tony Stark as a lady avatar, but do you really think he’s capable of something like that?” 

“Sam, I don’t know,” Steve lamented. “He seems alright, but also he’s kind of nuts. And it’s just too much coincidence, Sam. It has to be him. We gotta find Riley.” 

“Don’t you think I’ve been trying? I even logged into the Find My Phone shit and it can’t locate him.” 

“Shit,” Steve breathed. “Shit, Sam, what did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. Come on, let’s go to the cops.” 

Steve shook his head. “You can’t report someone missing this soon, and if we go to them talking about Tony Stark hacking video games… Even if they don’t laugh in our faces, if Stark is capable of hurting Riley, he’s definitely capable of buying his way out of trouble.” 

“So what do you want to do?” 

“I’m gonna talk to the black soldier. He’s not an NPC. I think he might be one of the devs or a mod or something. He can tell us who asked Riley to meet him.” 

Sam sighed. “Okay, but I’m staying with you while you go in. Offline. If something happens, I’m calling the cops.” 

Steve nodded. “Good. That works.” 

He spent the bus ride telling Sam about the message he’d gotten from Riley, saying he’d found something and to meet him at the pub. Steve tried not to feel self-conscious as Sam witnessed the mess he lived in, and went straight for his kit. The only problem was that the soldier wasn’t there. 

Steve looked frantically around the mess hall and spotted a swish of black going down the hall. “Hey!” Steve called after him, chasing him as fast as his avatar could go. It wasn’t fast enough. Steve rounded the corner and he was gone. The only thing down this hall was… shit it was the three doors that took you to the three big storylines.

A light flashed under the one to the Shore and Steve knew this was the only way to find the soldier. He thought about logging out to tell Sam about the snag in their plan, but he was too afraid of losing his quarry. With determination, he headed through the door into a bad storm. It slammed shut and disappeared behind him. He could see the soldier in the distance, sitting in front of a drowned pit that used to be a fire. Steve crossed to him, vaguely registering that he was now wearing boots with baggy pants tucked into them and a renaissance-faire-style shirt tucked into those. He was pretty sure there was a ridiculous hat on his head as well. He looked a bit like the soldier, actually, except he had no mask and his clothes were brighter. 

“My friend!” he yelled over the wind. “His tag is Wingman! He’s gone missing, and I think it’s because he found out who’s hacking your system!” 

This caught his attention. He stalked toward Steve, backing him up until his back hit a tree. Steve shivered a little and tried not to think about how _blue_ the guy’s eyes were. “I need to know if he was in contact with anyone besides me yesterday!” 

The soldier eyed him critically before going for the menu over Steve’s shoulder. He scrolled through what had to be every possible detail of Steve’s character and frowned some more. “Please, can you just help me? He’s my friend.” 

Those eyes snapped back to Steve’s again and he swiped the menu away. Then he looked toward the water and Steve saw an NPC. It was waiting, so was probably the Greeter for this region. The soldier looked back at him pointedly and nodded toward the Greeter. 

“No, I don’t have time to try to beat this region, especially not solo. Can you please just tell me who my friend was going to meet?” 

The soldier nodded toward the Greeter again. “No, I’m not doing this now.” 

Suddenly, the soldier grabbed him by the throat and Steve realized his left arm was made entirely of metal. He didn’t know if that was something that could be looted or purchased, but it was probably one of a kind. This guy had to be a dev. Unfortunately, Steve’s avatar was being strangled, which meant he was muted in game. He rolled the one bead for an unarmed attack and managed to punch the soldier in the ribs. He didn’t react, so Steve did it again and again until the soldier finally dropped him. 

Pointing to Steve and then the Greeter, the soldier started to walk away and disappeared into the trees. 

Steve sighed. He was tempted to log out, but it was clear the soldier knew something and wasn’t about to help him unless he cooperated. For whatever reason, the soldier was telling him to knock out this quest, so… 

“I am Captain Gardiner of _The Rachel_ ,” he introduced himself. “We were chasing a great, white whale, and the boat my son was on was lost along with several of our crew. Can you help us sail the ship to find him?” Steve almost asked if he meant his name was Ahab, not Gardiner. 

Steve sighed. “Lead the way.” 

The Captain did, telling him of a monstrous albino whale that they were determined to hunt down- until things like finding his son’s boat took priority. So this would be why they’d had a sailing skill, and his was maxed out so the storm should be a piece of cake. The landscape changed as they sailed, and Steve was again floored by the realism of the graphics. Everything from the ship’s wake in the water to the sea spray dotting the sails and decks was carefully rendered as if the point of the game was just to look at it. In the distance, another ship appeared and they drew alongside it. It was the Pequod, and Steve suddenly realized this actually was Moby Dick. He was just with the minor characters. 

Captain Gardiner boarded the other ship and a member of the crew approached Steve. “The Captain’s son was a good lad, but chances are he’s with Davy Jones now. We can’t afford to sail an endless rescue mission. Will you help us mutiny? We have to find and kill the whale. No whale, no pay. No pay, we all starve, and the dead make for a poor crew.” 

“True,” Steve agreed, “but he’s your captain and he just wants to find his son.” 

Another crew member approached. “His son’s dead. We look much longer, and we’ll be joining him.” 

Suddenly an orb floated to Steve with a message. He tapped it and the Triskelion Greeter blinked into existence. “Agent, your mission is to restore order through any means necessary. To do this, take control of the ship and eliminate those who have challenged authority. They will only continue to inspire disorder. Compliance will be rewarded. They must be made happy to comply.” 

Again, Steve got that crawly feeling in his gut like this game was more than it seemed, and not in a good way. Well, he wasn’t going to play it their way. Not again. The Greeter bid him, “Good luck, Agent,” and disappeared. 

“Let me talk to the Captain,” Steve suggested. 

“We’ve tried that!” the crew member insisted in exasperation. “He won’t listen to reason! He’s lost in his own grief, and won’t face reality!” 

Steve pressed his lips together. “Give me a chance,” he insisted. “Mutiny is not the answer.” 

“He’s out of his mind, you’ll see,” the crewman muttered. “And when you realize we’re right, I expect you’ll join our cause. Or you’ll be taking a swim.” 

Steve fought to keep his eyes from rolling. “When you realize I’m right, I expect you’ll fall into line.” 

The crewman blew a puff of air through his lips in a disbelieving laugh. He just shook his head and left Steve to it. On cue, the Captain returned. 

“Captain Gardiner!” Steve called out, crossing to him. “I need a word, in private. It’s urgent.” 

“It can’t possibly be,” the Captain shook his head forlornly. “What a cruel man, that Captain Ahab. I asked him for help finding a lost whaling ship and he said he could waste no time on anything but finding the whale. Can you imagine?” 

“Well…” Steve hesitated. “I think your crew might be feeling a similar way…” 

“I’m aware they think there’s no possible rescue.” 

“I mean, I think they want to do their jobs and get paid. Rations are going to run out, and they’re going to get restless. Possibly violent.” 

“Preposterous,” Gardiner expelled, popping the P’s emphatically. “My crew is as loyal a crew-” 

“Captain Gardiner,” Steve interrupted firmly. “The moment you boarded the Pequod, I was asked if I would join a mutiny. You cannot find your son if you’ve been thrown in the brig. Or overboard.” 

“You what?” 

“Yes, sir,” Steve insisted. “I think you need to listen to your crew before it’s too late.” 

“By God,” he breathed, seemingly unable to process the idea of a mutiny aboard his own ship. Then, a miracle happened. Either Steve solved the riddle or he broke the game. “I suppose you’re right. To save my son, I must first ensure the safety of myself and my crew. We’ll return to tracking the whale.” 

Steve had not considered that now he had to help kill a whale. He was handed a spear and equipped it instead of his sword, holding it firmly (or as firmly as he could, considering he was just resting two fingers on the beads) as they rounded a peninsula to see at least a dozen whales all swimming in one area. Things devolved quickly into mayhem and terror. Steve’s heart was beating almost out of his chest as the ship tilted and wood splintered. They were being sunk. Steve had managed to restore order without killing anyone, and they were all going to die anyway. 

Suddenly he was tackled to the deck by a figure kitted in black and dragged into the Captain’s quarters. The soldier (sailor now?) waved his way through a few menu options and suddenly everything stopped. He stared at Steve, like he was an interesting puzzle. It should have scared him or made him nervous, probably, but this was just a game, and he wasn’t convinced this silent watcher meant him harm. 

Steve finally broke the silence. “Did you just… pause… an MMO?” 

This caused the soldier to look away, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Steve insisted. “I’m impressed, honestly. This is… Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to do. Can you just talk to me?” 

The soldier looked afraid now and something protective was rising in Steve’s chest. Before he could think twice, he was reaching for the soldier’s mask. His hand was slapped away. “Okay, that’s fine,” Steve placated. “Just… can you tell me if an avatar named Stork talked to Wingman yesterday before he logged off?” 

There was a nervous look in the soldier’s eyes, but he shook his head once anyway. He pointed to the floor of the ship and Steve shook his head in confusion. “You can’t tell me or-? I’m not doing this quest. Clearly I failed. We’re all about to die, and I’m gonna be sent back to the Badlands.” 

The soldier shook his head fiercely. He crossed the room fast enough to startle Steve, though he had no idea if his avatar showed the way he jumped half a foot in the air. He wrapped the blond in some parody of a hug, their faces too close and not in a charged-romantic-movie-about-to-kiss kind of way. It was an awkward, why-is-this-person-so-close-to-me kind of proximity that made Steve uncomfortable until he heard a very quiet command. It wasn’t in English. Maybe Russian, if Steve had to guess. Suddenly everything went dark and then the Triskelion bloomed into existence. 

Steve had never seen this level before, and he looked around with wide eyes. The soldier clumsily put a hand over Steve’s mouth and he realized suddenly that maybe he was going to get the guy in trouble. He seemed scared, though Steve wasn’t sure of what. Steve pulled the hand away from his mouth, nodding to show he understood. As quietly as he could, he asked, “Do you work for Stark?” 

The soldier’s eyes widened as he looked over Steve’s shoulder and that was where his memory stopped. 

Sam was staring at him in concern. “Steve?” 

“When did I log out?” he mumbled, feeling some cross between drunk, sick, and stupid. 

“Thank God,” Sam breathed and leaned his head into his hands. He swatted at Steve’s knees. “What the hell was that? You logged and then just stared into space for like twenty minutes! Does your cheek sting? It fucking better, because I tried to slap you out of it and you just kept up with the creepy- What the _fuck_ , Steve.” 

He shook his head before turning to the side and vomiting. Steve was almost glad for his chronic illness because it meant he kept trash cans everywhere, and he managed to keep the mess confined to the one near the couch. Sam was already poking around in the cabinets until he found a glass and filled it with water. Steve drank miserably. “My head… feels like it got thrown in a blender.” 

“What happened?” 

Steve curled into the arm rest of the couch, letting his eyes fall shut. “The soldier doesn’t talk, but he’s definitely not an NPC. He can pause the game, Sam. He pulled me out of a sinking ship and we got to this… I don’t know, there were screens everywhere. Some of them were the city and the ship and the others had these samurai warriors… And then… I was sitting here and you were cussing at me.” 

“Lucky all I did was cuss at you,” Sam muttered. “Why did you try to take on a whole region by yourself? You were just supposed to do recon.” 

Steve curled into himself a little more. “He kept pointing at the Greeter,” he mumbled. “Figured if I did what he wanted, maybe he’d talk.” 

“And did he?” 

Steve thought about that quiet word, the soft voice that said it. “No,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Then you stop going into situations blind. Whatever the hell was in that room, it messed with your head. They can black you out somehow, Steve. This is not a game anymore.” 

“I know, Sam… Can you please stop yelling?” 

Sam took a breath. “Shit, Steve,” he sighed. “Shit.” 

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Shit.” 


	4. The Country

Chapter Four: The Country 

Steve didn’t know if Stark could track him through the kit- probably, but it wasn’t like the guy couldn’t track him down in game either way, so using the kit that didn’t make him want to keel over and die thanks to the added wrench of his non-alcoholic hangover just seemed sensible. 

They were logging in at Sam and Riley’s because at least the campus apartment had plenty of witnesses around, though there was at least a fifty percent chance they’d assume screaming was just an overenthusiastic party or a movie. The fact that Sam was with him didn’t particularly give Steve any confidence. Sam’s stats were the worst in their trio, and on top of that, he had never actually seen the soldier. Steve wasn’t even sure Sam saw him when Steve took off running. 

This time the light came from under the third door. Steve was pretty sure the storylines were supposed to be played in order, without unlocking before a player had beaten the last. Then again, this guy could pause and port other players without permission. Steve was pretty sure he could unlock levels for them. 

His suspicions were confirmed when he opened the door to reveal an open, grassy countryside. He stepped through and turned back to look at Sam as he followed. Sam immediately bent double, pointing and laughing at Steve. “You got a man bun!” he shouted, panting he was laughing so hard. “Ooh- ha- I’m never letting you live this down.” 

Steve only raised an eyebrow. “One, I look totally badass. Look at this robe. I’m a goddamn samurai. Two, you have one of those stereotype long-hangy catfish moustaches, so I don’t know who you think you’re laughing at.” 

“What? Man, that’s racist,” Sam declared. 

Steve sighed. “Remember Riley, our friend, your roommate, the one who is _missing_?” 

“Still not letting you live down your man bun,” Sam muttered. 

They started walking again, and this time the soldier came to them. Again, he was outfitted all in black, but this time he looked like a ninja. Strapped to his back was a katana, but he still had the metal arm. Steve wondered again if that was against game protocol since no one this far in the past (or on an old-school whaling ship for chrissakes) would have had one or known what to do if they saw one. 

Sam barely got a step forward before the soldier had wrapped Steve in another awkward hug and disappeared with him. He blinked and took in his surroundings. “The Dragon Claw pub?” Steve asked. “This is where Stark first hacked in, yeah?” 

Then Steve looked at the door and his blood ran cold. He knew suddenly exactly what Riley had wanted him to see: there was a symbol carved over the binary, probably rendering it ineffective. A symbol Steve had only seen in history books or on conspiracy websites. It was a skull boasting several tentacles. HYDRA. “Stark is HYDRA?” he asked unsteadily. It made sense. Rich people always seemed to be the main members of secret cults. 

The soldier sighed. He touched the door, then his own chest. “Y-you’re HYDRA?” 

He gave Steve a helpless look. “But maybe you don’t want to be.” Finally, something lit up in those sad, blue eyes and the puzzle pieces began to fall into place for Steve. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

The soldier put his hand over Steve’s mouth again, silently pleading before pulling him into that awkward hug. Another command, and they were back in the room with all the screens. Steve immediately felt sick. It was almost Pavlovian the way that his gut reacted to this place, even though he couldn’t remember much of anything about it. The soldier took Steve by the hand and led him to a dark corner of the room where there was a door. He opened the door and gestured for Steve to go in. Steve wasn’t too sure about it, but he had a feeling the soldier was trustworthy. He’d saved Steve before, and he looked truly upset by whatever had been coming up behind Steve that caused him to black out. 

Steve went in. 

He tried very, very hard not to be alarmed by the fact that the door slammed shut and the soldier twisted the round wheel outside to lock him in. The soldier placed his right, non-metal palm on the glass and looked apologetic. Steve wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Probably bad. 

Fuck. 

The soldier disappeared from the small window in the door and Steve was left with nothing but metal walls and what people who had phobias of the dentist probably saw when they pictured a dentist’s chair. The thing had straps for all four limbs and something that looked like it was supposed to grab onto your head and never let go. 

He heard the soldier’s voice again, this time through the intercom. “Sit, please.” 

Steve wished he could be angry, but that voice sounded so small and uncertain for such a strong looking guy. He contemplated not cooperating, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go or hide. So, because he was stupid and reckless and never knew when to back down, Steve sat. 

The straps didn’t come to life, but a drill did come down from the ceiling and Steve was pretty sure he was going to die until he realized it was heading for the spot just above his left shoulder. It was after his player menu. Nonplussed, Steve let it happen. 

He gasped as it all hit him at once and even let out a choked cry. He was suddenly aware of every player in the game, and he knew where they all were. He could hear their voices and whichever one he listened to caused one of the dots to burn a little brighter on the map that now lived in the upper right corner of his vision. He knew how to travel anywhere with a word just like the soldier, because it was written right there on the map, and he was fairly certain even without checking that his level and skills were all maxed out. He was now the most overpowered player the game could possibly have. His gear didn’t have stats anymore, and Steve was pretty sure it was because he didn’t need them. He was immortal within the world of Leviathan now. 

The door opened and he kept his mouth shut. He knew now how they’d been found before. Someone could see when someone was in here, but only if they made noise. Was that why the soldier never spoke? 

Steve pulled him into a hug, tucking his chin on the soldier’s shoulder before whispering the word that would take them back to Sam. 

Sam who wasn’t there. “Falcon?” Steve called nervously. 

“They’ve been taken,” the soldier murmured. 

“No, that’s- that’s not possible,” Steve laughed nervously. 

“They made you forget,” he reminded Steve. “They can make you do things, too. Whether you want to or not.” 

“But it’s a game,” Steve insisted. 

The soldier gave him a hard look. “Leviathan was never a game.” 

Steve shook his head as the soldier began to draw in the air. He reached away from his beads and felt Sam sitting next to him in reality. He slipped his hand into his friend’s and squeezed. There was no answering squeeze. The hand was limp. “I- I- hang on-” 

He logged out and sure enough, it was Sam and he wasn’t moving. The game was still running in his helmet. Steve grabbed his wrist, feeling for a pulse. He was alive. “Sam?” he asked as he shook the wrist to no avail. “Shit. Shit, okay. Uh… It’s gonna be fine, pal. It’s all gonna be fine.” 

He really hoped he was telling the truth. Steve put his helmet back on and found the soldier just finishing his drawing of an oversized throwing star. With a few motions, it filled and became three dimensional. The soldier hopped just enough to land on it and Steve realized it was hovering. Had the soldier just created a mount out of nothing? And one that wasn’t even technically a mount because didn’t mounts have to be animals? 

Steve wasn’t about to waste time. He drew a circle and then realized he wanted to do something at least a little meaningful. They were fighting Nazis, right? Steve grinned darkly as he drew a few smaller circles nested inside, all cradling a star. He colored it in red, white, and blue, and tried not to think about how similar this was to the program Steve had used to design Stark’s avatar. 

“Good,” the soldier nodded in approval. “We have to cross some ground that can’t be walked on.” 

“What’s wrong with my friend?” he asked quietly. 

The soldier crouched down on his throwing-star mount and as he tilted it forward, it began to move in that direction. Steve, less gracefully, followed his example. 

“If I say run, you log out immediately,” the soldier ordered. “Your missing friend, designation Wingman. He was asking too many questions, and discovered one answer too many. They don’t just have his avatar now. They can make you go anywhere, do anything, even after you log out.” 

“So you’re saying they mind controlled him into kidnapping himself?” 

“Essentially.” 

Steve reached out with his beaded wrist and grabbed Sam’s wrist, wanting to know the moment anything went wrong. Steve kept his middle finger on his friend’s pulse. It was steady and strong, which was what Steve had to be now. “Why didn’t they do that to Falcon?” 

“Bait.” 

Steve shuddered a little at that thought. “Bait for who?” 

The soldier looked at him. “Leviathan was engineered to find those compatible with HYDRA’s mission, and to eliminate those who are not.” 

Steve let out a humorless laugh as they began to fly over a ravine. He’d pretty well painted himself as not in line with HYDRA, and so had the rest of his party. “So how do we stop them?” 

“First, we do our best to save your friend. I gave you Mod power, so you’re essentially undefeatable. The problem is, so are they. The only way to stop one of us is to have greater numbers.” 

“Okay, then what? How do we shut down Leviathan?” 

The soldier was quiet. 

“We… can shut it down, right?” 

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Maybe your friend Stork can figure it out.” 

“I thought he was HYDRA?” 

The soldier shook his head. “Leviathan is HYDRA. Your friend is poking them with a stick.” 

Steve grinned. That did sound a lot more in line with what he knew of Tony Stark. “Okay, so… we take out as many Mods as we can… how do we give Falcon his brain back?” 

“I… “ the soldier seemed like he was struggling to keep up now, like everything was too loud and he couldn’t think straight. “I was just going to force log him out. I don’t… know how they control you.” 

“Okay, that’s… Yeah, I guess thing one is to get him away from them so they can’t do anything else to him.” 

The soldier nodded, but he seemed all talked out. Steve let him ride in silence the rest of the way. They reached a Great Wall that was probably supposed to be in China, which led Steve to wonder if HYDRA knew samurai were Japanese. Probably not. They were fucking Nazis. 

Their mounts flew up the wall and they came to a stop along the walkway at the top. Yeah, the devs had definitely gotten their countries mixed up. This was really, clearly, meant to be the Great Wall of China. He kept his thoughts to himself on the matter and followed the soldier’s lead as he hovered. There was someone coming for them. Steve dismounted and drew his weapon, feeling confident as the soldier drew his. He wondered if this was how Sam and Riley felt when they fought together. True, this wasn’t exactly real, but it had become a lot more real with the soldier’s revelations. 

The lone warrior charged them, weapon at the ready and Steve stepped sideways and rolled two beads to slam the enemy sword to the ground, tripping its owner right into the soldier’s range. Steve was there in a heartbeat, and together they ran their weapons into the fallen warrior’s chest. He disappeared in what Steve assumed was the pixelated evanescence of a player heading back to the Badlands. 

The next fight wasn’t so easy. She held her own, red hair flowing with each movement. “Stand down, soldier! This isn’t the way!” 

He ignored her, and Steve didn’t waste time thinking about what she meant. Her fighting style was amazing, and Steve wondered if she was some kind of fighter in reality. “You can’t just Mod some random kid!” she insisted as she literally flipped up onto his shoulders and began to squeeze his neck with her legs. “You realize they’re going to his apartment right this second? He’ll be dead before you even get to the other one.” 

The soldier bucked her off fiercely, eyes blazing. “No,” he said firmly and slashed her. The shock delayed her just enough that Steve could land a blow, getting the required two Mod hits in to send her to the Badlands. He turned to Steve, looking truly terrified. “You have to run. They know where you live.” 

“Then it’s good I’m with Falcon,” Steve replied carefully. 

“Log out now,” the soldier ordered. “I’m on my way.” 

Steve’s heart was pounding as he logged and he shook Sam again just in case. “Fuck,” he muttered and tried to think about how they could possibly get somewhere safe without abandoning Sam or being slowed too much. 

His hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone to call Stark. 

“Yeah, what’s my favorite little truant been up to?” Stark greeted him. He sounded distracted. 

“I need your help,” Steve rushed, and realized his voice was shaking as badly as his hands. “That game, Leviathan, it’s- Can you shut it down?” 

“Babycakes, I thought you’d never ask.” He could practically hear the self-satisfied smile in the billionaire’s voice. “Just need to finish gathering some data on-” 

“No, it needs to go down right fucking now,” Steve practically shouted. 

“Okay, one, ow, no more shouting in my ear please,” Stark replied, still too calm to understand the stakes. “Two, what’s got your tightie whities in a bunch?” 

“That game was designed by fucking HYDRA, Stark. They’re real.” 

“Huh.” 

“No, not ‘huh’ like it’s interesting. Shut it down. They’re gonna kill my friend.” 

“Okay, but when I shut it down, that’s it. Everything’s gone. No info, no data, no proof… It never existed.” 

Steve had to let go of Sam’s wrist before he broke it. He probably couldn’t actually break someone’s wrist with one hand, but he fucking felt like he could. “Stark, do it. I’m being serious, they could literally kill my friend any second.” 

“Alright, alright.” Steve heard the clicking of some keys followed by a, “There. It’s gone. Poof. You’ve ruined the lives of millions of basement dwellers, are you happy?” 

Steve pulled the helmet off Sam’s head as it powered down. Sam still wasn’t conscious or responding or whatever, but at least he was out of the game. Like the soldier had planned, they couldn’t make him do anything else if he wasn’t in the game. “Yeah. Thanks… thank you so much.” 

“Anything else I can do for you?” Stark asked in a tone that clearly indicated it was rhetorical. 

“We need a place to lie low.” 

Steve knew he was probably supposed to wait for the soldier, but it wasn’t like he’d been given an ETA. For all he knew, the guy was in fucking Russia. The dorms had a wheelchair downstairs, which Steve stole without a second thought. He’d bring it back if he wasn’t killed by Nazis. He was shaking with fatigue, but the adrenaline helped him notice approximately none of it as he finagled Sam into the chair. The elevator was so slow, Steve was beginning to think he was going to die of old age instead of a shadow Nazi organization, but finally it arrived and Steve wheeled Sam inside and then into the lobby to wait for Happy. 

Steve felt hugely guilty involving Happy. Sure, he was a professional bodyguard, but if an entire army or an elite squad or something showed up, they were all pretty much dead. Luckily, he showed up shortly after Steve managed to get Sam to the lobby (perks of a boss who could afford the fanciest cars, probably), so he didn’t have to wait anxiously in fear of being seen or tracked or whatever. 

Happy’s help made moving Sam from the chair to the car much easier, though Steve was still so high on adrenaline he could probably have managed it himself. He sat probably a little too close to his catatonic friend on the drive, but his nerves needed that wrist in reach so he could be sure Sam’s heart was still beating. 

He was so fucking still. Steve hated it. He hated every second of this whole thing, except the part where he and the soldier were fighting. Not only had it felt good to be side by side with someone in the middle of a fight, it kept him from thinking about kind, good Sam practically dead or Riley who was just as good and who hadn’t minded Steve falling asleep on him when he was drunk. Even hugged him a little like he knew how badly Steve needed to know he mattered to someone. 

Fuck. 

He wiped furiously at his eyes and tried so, so hard not to think. 

That’s when the motorcycle appeared. It was gaining on them fast, and Happy grew tense as he accelerated to try to compensate. The motorcyclist sped up as well, coming up on the driver’s side. His face was hidden, but Steve could see the glint of a gun at the cyclist’s hip as his coat flapped in the wind. “He’s armed, Happy!” 

The bodyguard floored it, but the guy on the bike wouldn’t be left behind. 

That was when Steve saw another glint of metal. “Rogers, get down!” Happy yelled, but Steve kept rising, trying to get a better look. 

It was his hand. It was a metal hand. His left hand was metal. Steve’s brain continued to process the same sentence in various compositions until he finally said, “Pull over.” 

“Are you nuts?” 

“I know this guy, he’s on our side.” 

“I’m not pulling over just because-” 

“This guy saved my life last night,” Steve insisted. He wasn’t talking about the ship. He was pretty sure something worse would have happened to him in that room with the screens if the soldier hadn’t been there. “Please, just pull over. He’s not going to stop tailing us, and he hasn’t drawn his gun. If he does, you have my full permission to floor it.” 

Happy gave him a look, but did as he was told. Steve blamed Stark for that. 

The soldier dismounted and Steve threw the door open (like an idiot, honestly how was he still alive with impulses like these) as he drew a gun. “Wait, stop! It’s me, it’s Murmur.” 

The soldier paused, sending a confused look to the driver. 

“He’s a friend. I didn’t know how far you were, and I knew-” 

“Phone.” 

“What?” Steve asked, but he was already fishing his out to hand over. The soldier accepted it wordlessly and then smashed it on the ground. 

“If I can find you, so can they.” 

Steve nodded shortly. “Uh.” 

“You have a safe house?” 

“Yeah, sorta,” Steve hedged. He was pretty sure Stark had the best security money could buy, so that counted, right? “It’s my friend Stork. He already shut the game down. He’s good.” 

With a nod, the soldier returned to his bike. “Hurry.” 

Steve slipped back into the car. “He’s coming with us,” he told Happy faintly as he tried very hard to remember he was in a life and death situation and not think about if it was hot that the guy both looked like his avatar and had showed up to protect Steve like it was his mission in life. 

Not that it was a question. 

He grabbed Sam’s wrist again, feeling for that pulse that kept him calm. 

The drive took forever, and the soldier literally picked Sam up and carried him because apparently the extra two seconds to put him in the chair was too much. Steve brought the chair anyway. He was pretty sure Sam would appreciate not being manhandled any time they needed to move, whether he was aware of it or not. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, who’s tall, dark, and creepy?” Stark demanded as the four of them entered. 

“Asset,” the soldier replied gruffly. 

Stark raised an eyebrow. “Okay… and why are you here?” 

“Protect Murmur.” 

“Okay. Well. Short stuff, you have some interesting friends.” 

Once the door was locked behind them, the soldier deposited Sam in the chair and proceeded to look unhappily at the room. “Too many windows.” 

“That glass could stop a nuclear warhead,” Stark replied easily. 

“But it cannot stop eyes.” 

Stark opened his mouth to argue and frowned. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s true. We, uh… The lab doesn’t have much in the way of windows.” 

The soldier nodded and Stark looked like he had something else to say but blessedly held it in and led them all down to the lab. “What is wrong with him?” asked a heavily accented female voice. Steve followed the sound to see a young woman, probably African judging by her accent. 

“Some kind of mind control,” Steve told her. “Can’t wake him up.” 

“Well, let’s see, bring him here,” she said, and Steve did as she said even though he probably should have questioned the fact that she looked like a teenager. 

“Princess, meet my favorite pain in the ass,” Stark introduced them. 

“I’m Steve,” he supplied. She seemed like a reasonable person who didn’t want to call someone by a different (possibly derogatory) nickname every time she addressed them. 

“Shuri,” she replied shortly. “Stark, your scan matrices are failing again, please remind me why I could not bring my own equipment?” 

“Because mine is state of the art,” the billionaire replied in a grumpy voice. 

She laughed under her breath. “Maybe in America.” 

Steve smiled a little, feeling like maybe things were going to be okay. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to regard the soldier. “Thanks,” he said, his voice tight. “You… I mean, you saved us.” 

“Worth saving.” 

Steve blushed a little. “Hate to break it to you, pal, but my avatar’s the hero. I’m just a crooked, ninety pound asthmatic.” 

“Murmur-” 

“Steve,” the blond insisted. “My name is Steve. What’s yours?” 

The soldier froze for a long moment, seemingly lost for words. Finally, he repeated, “Steve.” 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he agreed with a small smile. “What do I get to call you?” 

“The Asset.” 

Steve frowned. “You don’t have a name? Like… not a title or a designation, but a real name?” 

The soldier (Asset) hesitated again. He almost looked confused as he stumbled over his words. “J- J- Bu-cky.” 

“Bucky,” Steve repeated with that same, soft smile. “Nice to meet you.” 

The guy nodded awkwardly, and Steve touched his hand. “Thank you. Really.” 

“Worth saving,” he repeated and Steve’s face darkened. 

“You don’t even know me, how can you decide if I’m worth saving?” 

“The test,” he replied as if it was obvious. 

“Okay… I don’t exactly follow…” 

“You’re good,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t like killing.” 

Steve laughed nervously. “Most people don’t.” 

“Most people do when it’s fiction and there are no real consequences. You couldn’t even look at the woman in white.” 

Steve didn’t ask. He knew Bucky was talking about the Greeter. He’d given Steve a nod, was standing in the background when it happened. Steve didn’t know for sure what his face was doing when he cut down that NPC, but he knew it was doing something. 

The soldier definitely saw whatever Steve’s face was doing. “Right, but everyone does that. No one would have just leave a catastrophe alone. They’d help.” 

The soldier scoffed again. “Too much ‘not my business’ going around these days,” he said instead. “You are good.” 

“I swear, I’m really not anything special,” Steve insisted. 

“You wanted to save the captain,” Bucky said. “No one has ever tried to save the captain. The mutineers sometimes. No one ever tried to save the captain. You did. You wanted everyone to survive.” 

“And good job me, no one survived,” Steve replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 

“You’re good,” Bucky insisted again, quietly. “I don’t remember the last person I knew who was truly good. They all.. Turn bad. They’re only good out of fear.” 

Steve softened a little. “You’re good too, Bucky.” 

Bucky looked away and shook his head. “Killed people. Not in a video game.” 

Steve stopped to think, to make sure he said the right thing. Maybe Bucky had killed people, but Steve could tell he had a good heart. He looked at Bucky, his eyes fierce, waiting until the brunet made eye contact. “Did you want to? Did you like killing them?” 

Bucky shook his head, and there were tears in his eyes, so Steve wrapped him in the best hug he could manage. “You’re good too, Buck. Nobody’s perfect, okay? We all do things we wish we hadn’t. We all have regrets.” 

“What do you regret, Steve?” 

Steve swallowed thickly. “I told my ma I missed art school,” he admitted. He tensed with the effort of holding back guilty tears. “She was sick, dying, and I told her I missed school, and the next day she died.” 

“That is-” 

“A coincidence, yeah, that’s what everyone would tell me if I told them about it. But it wasn’t. She thought I wanted to go to school more than I wanted her to be okay and she just… gave up.” 

Bucky held Steve tight and nuzzled into his hair. Somehow, it wasn’t awkward. This was a non-awkward hug. “You are good, Steve. You’re the best good I know.” 

Steve pulled away a little, eyes shiny. “You’re good too.” He’d leaned up to peck Bucky’s lips before he’d realized what he was doing and when reality hit, he paled. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I- I-” 

Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s. “Please do not apologize.” 

“I- I kissed you,” Steve fretted. 

“Yes,” Bucky agreed. “I… did not mind.” 

Steve didn’t know what to do with that, and Bucky was holding him a little too close. “This is… Look, please don’t toy with me because I’m not hot and I have health issues, so it’s really hard for me to find someone who-” 

“You are beautiful, Steve,” the soldier interrupted. “Please stop putting yourself down.” 

Steve bit his lip and met Bucky’s gaze hard, feeling every ounce of reality they now had outside of the game. “Can’t help facts.” 

Bucky only frowned further. “I do not think you understand the difference.” 

Steve bit his lip. “Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But I can think of someone who might be able to help.” 

“Good, where do we find them?” 

“Did you not mind the kiss or did you enjoy it?” Steve asked, and that might have been every ounce of bravery he had that wasn’t reserved for losing barfights. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to be brave anymore, because Bucky was leaning forward, kissing him, hugging him completely non-awkwardly, and Steve really shouldn’t be on this level with a guy whose name he didn’t even know five minutes ago, right? He pulled away, looking at least a little ashamed. “We, um. My friends,” he mumbled and cleared his throat. 

Thankfully, Stark and Shuri were having some kind of argument over a computer screen that Steve should have been able to understand more of after having been in Stark’s class, but he didn’t even try. It meant they had their backs to Steve and the soldier and saw exactly none of what had happened. 

Steve looked at the bracelet she’d put on Sam and recognized it from his own kit, and from when Stark was leading them through the city. “What are these?” he asked. His voice was soft, but they stopped as abruptly as if he’d shouted. 

“Kimoye beads,” she replied simply. “Much better than Stark Industries. If I had my lab, I could figure out what has been displaced in his mind, but I do not, so I am stuck with the primitive readings.” 

“My tech is not primitive.” 

Shuri was silent and stone faced just long enough for her disagreement to register without her having to say a word. “It is difficult to determine what precisely they have done to him as Stark’s brain maps are not as detailed as the ones in Wakanda.” 

Before Stark could say whatever defensive thing he was going to say, Steve chimed in. “They did something like this to me too. Would it help to scan me?” 

“Perhaps,” was all she would commit to. Steve felt the beads vibrate slightly and then she was absorbed in her screen again. After several minutes of poring over whatever she’d found in Steve’s brain, she shook her head. “I need more data. Whatever was done to you was minor, and the traces are all but gone.” 

“Didn’t feel very minor,” Steve muttered under his breath. 

The soldier- Bucky, he had a name now- stepped forward like a man on death row. “Scan me.” 

She took the beads from Sam and put them on Bucky’s wrist and Bucky actually flinched a little like he expected it to hurt. That protective thing was rising in Steve’s chest again. If Bucky had volunteered for this knowing that what had been done to Steve wasn’t enough, it could only mean that worse had been done to Bucky. Shuri was quiet and contemplative while she studied the screen, which pretty much confirmed for Steve that Bucky had probably done some of the things he was ashamed of while _completely out of control of his body._ Steve knew what it was like to have a body that fought you every step of the way, but he couldn’t imagine how terrible it would be to have his body actively controlled and used for evil. 

“I will need a moment to go over the scan, but this should do it.” 

“Thank you,” Steve said to Bucky, but he did not acknowledge Steve in favor of putting the beads down and retreating to the far corner of the room, where he appeared to be keeping watch. Steve sighed and settled in to wait. 


	5. Project Insight

Chapter Five: Project Insight 

“So you knew it was HYDRA all along?” Steve clarified as they zoomed through the air in a plane that reminded Steve more of a spaceship. He had heard a bit about Wakanda in his Modern Design classes, but he had never expected this level of technology. He had also assumed _Princess_ was another of Stark’s nicknames, and boy was he wrong. 

“Mhm, yep, just didn’t want to freak you out,” Tony confirmed. He was sprawled across the seat with his eyes closed in a complete opposite to Bucky who was sitting impossibly straight, eyes in a soft focus like he was watching each and every one of them. “They got their hands on some Wakandan technology, so we’ve been working to track down exactly what and where. Everything seems centralized to this location in Siberia- that’s why you packed the heavy coat. They can’t travel as fast as we can just yet, so it’s possible- assuming they take their prisoners to HQ- that we’ll be in time to save your friend.” 

“We’ll save him,” Sam spoke up next to Steve. “We have to.” 

Steve squeezed Sam’s knee in encouragement. He looked rougher than Steve had felt when his own egg had been scrambled. In fact, Sam looked like his entire person had been steamrolled by spikes. 

In all, the plane trip only took about an hour and if Steve hadn’t realized just how advanced Shuri’s country was before, the fact that they’d travelled halfway around the world in such a short span of time without much more force than a car accelerating definitely nailed it home. Even with his heaviest coat, gloves, and a scarf, he was fucking freezing the moment the plane opened to let them out. 

Sam stuck close to Steve and Stark put on the ridiculous metal suit that made him look like a robot. He’d shown it to Steve and Bucky back at the lab, extremely proud of himself, and maybe just a little trying to distract Steve from his worry over Sam. The suit’s test run began immediately as they were surrounded by a group of enemy combatants. 

“Everyone down,” Stark said casually, and as soon as they all sank down, he fired a volley of energy blasts in a circle, only having to fire off extra rounds at the last couple who’d gotten enough warning to dodge the blasts. Another popped up with a gun, and Shuri took him out with one blast from what Steve could only think of as “wrist cannons.” 

Suddenly, Stark’s suit started smoking and Shuri rolled her eyes. “I told you not to use tungsten. Give me that.” 

She was digging around in the panels of Stark’s arms and Steve couldn’t help but smirk. “You three go on your rescue mission. We will deal with the stolen technology, as discussed.” 

Bucky nodded shortly and marched toward the building without checking to make sure Steve and Sam were following. Steve knew on some level he shouldn’t be along for this mission but when anyone else brought that up they figured out pretty quickly they weren’t going to stop him.. Steve was armed with a wicked knife and a baseball bat (which might end up doubling as a cane later, but the adrenaline was doing a good job keeping him upright for now), Sam had an actual gun, and Steve was pretty sure it would take a paragraph to describe everything Bucky was carrying. 

It turned out he and Sam were pretty superfluous anyway. Bucky fought like a machine. He fought like someone so ridiculously overpowered, a game dev wouldn’t even give his skills to an endgame boss. At some point, Steve realized his mouth was open and shut it. 

They reached their destination without too much trouble (and Steve wasn’t going to think about whether or not the people on the floor were unconscious or dead because they were Nazis and murderers and probably none of them wanted to leave like Bucky did). It was a morgue, and there was only one person (not body, please not body) laid out on the tables. On a stool beside Riley’s still form, a redhead perched casually like she’d been expecting them. 

“Soldier,” she greeted Bucky, ignoring Sam and Steve entirely. 

He hesitated a little at the sight of her, and Steve knew she’d been the one in the game trying to talk him out of helping Steve and his band of misfits. He could sense the history between them, even if he wasn’t sure what it was. “We can do this,” Bucky said quietly, and Steve wasn’t sure if he was telling her or them. “They shut down Leviathan, they-” 

“Look, Leviathan was just a tool,” the redhead interrupted. “You know there’s no stopping this ride, soldier. Please don’t make me put you down. Please.” 

Steve stepped forward, in front of Bucky, holding his bat low, but poised for attack all the same. “The only ones getting put down today are HYDRA,” he informed her. 

Her lips quirked just a little, and Steve couldn’t tell if she was laughing at him or not. “Who’s your friend, soldier?” 

“No one,” Bucky grumbled, shoving Steve behind him. 

“Steve Rogers, ma’am,” Steve said loudly and pushed his way to the front again. “Don’t let my size fool you. We can take you down here just like we did in Leviathan. But I get the feeling you and Bucky here are friends, so I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” 

“Bucky-?” she echoed, and a little of the calm she exuded keyed up. “Where did you-? Soldier?” 

Except Bucky wasn’t looking too hot. He had that _everything’s too loud and I can’t focus_ look on his face again, so Steve kept talking. “Look, I can tell you care about him. The question is, do you care about him more than HYDRA?” 

She didn’t react for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I’m going to regret this.” 

Steve smiled a little. “No, you won’t.” 

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Can’t feel regret when you’re dead.” 

Steve shook his head in response, but he was mostly focused on Riley now. Hesitantly, he crossed to check for a pulse. She rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, just knocked out. For now anyway.” 

Steve didn’t ask what she meant by that. She didn’t explain and had instead crossed to Bucky. She cupped his face like a lover might and Steve felt his heart break into at least fifty pieces as she kissed him gently. He leaned into her touch, and it became pretty clear exactly what kind of history these two had. She said something to him too quiet for Steve to hear before patting his face gently and going after something in the drawers across the room. She returned with a gun and a syringe, which Steve chose not to be alarmed by since she wasn’t pointing it at anyone. 

Sam had Riley’s face in his hands, assuring him everything was going to be okay. It was a lot like the redhead and Bucky, except for the lack of kissing. Steve really shouldn’t be bothered. He shouldn’t feel a hole in his chest right now because Sam and Riley were his friends too, and what better day could he have than one where he literally saved the world from a secret Nazi organization that could control minds? Still, he couldn’t help but feel like the odd man out. 

The injection the redhead gave Riley took less than a minute to work its magic. Sam laughed a little as the blond opened his eyes, and then they were hugging. Steve smiled too, because he’d been convinced at more than one point that they might never get to this point. 

“Okay, reunion later, boys,” the redhead interrupted by literally shoving the gun between them and laying the flat side against Riley’s chest. “Gun for you. Don’t point it at anything until you feel sober.” 

Riley nodded, his eyes still a little glazed. Steve reached out to help Sam get him to his feet. Riley held the gun in one hand and used the other to lean on Sam. Steve squeezed his arm before heading up to the front with Bucky and the redhead. He knew they didn’t need him, but it wasn’t like he and his baseball bat were going to hurt their chances. 

Everything was going fine until they hit a hall with just enough people that one managed to hit an alarm button. Steve saw every camera in the hall move and a voice came on the loud speaker, speaking in slow, deliberate Russian. The redhead stepped in front of Bucky and pressed her hands over his ears, maintaining eye contact with him. The PA stopped. “Corridor 3A requires attention,” the voice said- in English now. 

“Steve Rogers,” the redhead looked around Bucky and met his eyes, “in about ten seconds this hall is going to be flooded with HYDRA agents and we’re all going to have to fight. One of us has to get to the office one floor down and stop the guy making the announcement, okay? Do you understand?” 

Steve had approximately one million questions, but he understood the what. The why could wait. “Understood,” he confirmed.” 

“Good,” she said. “When you come out of the stairwell over there, you go left. It’s at the end of the hall. You two? Do you understand?” 

“10-4, yes, ma’am,” Sam replied. Riley saluted unsteadily. 

“This is going to go really well,” she muttered in a voice that indicated she felt the opposite. She met Bucky’s gaze again, concern written all over her face. The doors banged open almost in unison and, true to the redhead’s word, there was an almost literal tidal wave of bad guys. She removed her hands. “We’re going to stop him, soldier.” 

She whirled into battle, and Steve started swinging. Sam and Riley had guns in hand, but weren’t firing just yet. Riley still didn’t look quite himself, and Sam was busy keeping him upright. They trailed behind Steve toward the stairs and the voice came back on the loudspeaker with its practiced Russian. 

“Nat!” Bucky yelled, sounding distressed. 

Steve didn’t know what was happening, but he knew it was bad to make Bucky sound like that. He swung harder and faster. It was going about as well for his lungs as it was going for the Nazis unfortunate enough to be in the path of his swing. Steve was small, but he knew how to swing a bat. Hard. 

The three of them managed to make a sizeable dent in the number of attackers (and Steve decided the overwhelming attack force was good because it meant there’d be less going after Stark and Shuri) and finally made it to the stairwell. Bucky was fighting recklessly, like a caged animal, knocking agents over the railings and Steve was running so fast after him that he almost fell down the stairs. He reached the bottom just in time to hear the list end with a question: “ _Soldat?_ ” 

Bucky was standing perfectly still and calmly answered, but Steve didn’t speak Russian, so he only knew it was nothing good. Then, the voice came on again. “Kill the Americans.” 

Steve didn’t even have time to react before Bucky charged at him and knocked him into the stairs. He felt and heard something crack, but couldn’t even scream because his lungs had had enough of his shit and had gone into a full-blown asthma attack. He tried to gasp in air, mouth gaping like a fish out of water as his body refused to allow him oxygen. Bucky hit him again, slamming his head back into the steps hard enough that Steve blacked out so long Bucky reached the landing half a flight of stairs up. Steve fished for his inhaler, finally getting a grip on it as Bucky disappeared, probably to go after Sam and Riley. 

Steve let out some cross between a moan and a sob as he forced his body to stand. There was a pain in his back just south of his shoulder blade. He was pretty sure it was a rib broken by the concrete step that had jabbed him when Bucky threw him down. Steve tensed, trying to keep his spine rigid so it would move and distract him as little as possible. Bucky had yelled for Nat, so that was probably the redhead’s name. She’d given Steve a mission, and he was pretty sure she knew what she was talking about. There were only two agents in this hall, and they made the mistake of assuming that, because Steve was small and injured, they didn’t both need to attack him at once. 

Swinging the bat made him literally sob, and he had to lean against the wall for a moment before he could keep moving. “ _Soldat_ ,” the intercom buzzed, and the voice sounded afraid. Steve looked up at the nearest camera and smiled wickedly. “Eliminate the threat one floor down.” 

Steve pushed himself harder, making it to the office and finding it locked. He smashed the bat through the glass of the window just as the stairwell flew open. The man in the office wasn’t much taller than Steve, though his face was rounder and he wore small, round glasses. It was clear he wasn’t armed, and Steve reached through the broken window to open the door from the opposite side. “ _Soldat!_ ” the man panicked into the PA and Steve rushed him, determined to at least knock him out before Bucky could prevent it. He succeeded, just barely. No sooner had the man crumpled to the floor than Steve felt the inside of Bucky’s elbow around his throat, lifting him bodily from the floor. Steve struggled weakly before remembering his knife. 

_I’m so sorry, pal,_ he thought desperately as he jammed it into the soldier’s hip. Bucky staggered, but didn’t let go. Steve was completely unaware of dropping his knife, but he heard it clatter to the floor all the same. His vision was tunneling and everything sounded far away. 

He was vaguely aware of the redhead arriving and engaging Bucky at least enough to get him to drop Steve to the floor. He coughed and choked and did his best to sit up, but mostly he just managed to roll onto the side without the (probably) broken rib. The redhead had Bucky pinned by the throat, looking powerful and violent. Bucky struggled, but she knew exactly what she was doing and he couldn’t get free. His struggling finally stopped and she released him as he coughed and gasped loudly. “Nat, Nat,” he cried. Steve couldn’t make out much of what he was saying, but he did manage to catch, “He was good and I killed him, he was so good, Nat, he…” 

The rest was too quiet for him to hear, and Steve was starting to feel cold as his heart rate went down with his adrenaline levels. 

Steve was vaguely aware of being moved, of an argument. He heard Shuri’s voice saying something insistent about _my lab this time_. Then he let unconsciousness win. 

~*~ 

When he woke up, Sam was asleep in a chair, and Steve was asleep in… he hesitated to call it a bed. The room was massive, and Steve decided this was Wakanda. He started to sit up and winced only to realize nothing hurt. 

In fact, _nothing_ hurt. Steve hadn’t felt this good… ever. 

“Oh, good. You are awake,” Shuri announced as she walked over. Sam was startled halfway out of his chair, but he smiled when he saw Steve. Shuri folded her arms. “How do you feel?” 

Sam touched Steve’s hand and said, “I’m gonna get Riley. Be right back.” 

Steve looked at her and wondered if she was a doctor, too. “Healthy,” he remarked, awe in his voice. 

“Good. You should be able to walk now.” 

Steve got out of the bed and didn’t spare a thought on the fact that he’d been changed into hospital clothes. It wasn’t the first time, and he had no self-consciousness at this point in his life. He frowned a little. He felt taller. 

“Was your spine always that crooked?” she asked knowingly. 

Steve gave her an open-mouthed look. “Did you… fix my scoliosis?” 

She actually laughed at him. “You mean to tell me you and your doctors knew and just left it like that?” 

“No, I wore a brace for a long time…” 

“A brace!” she exclaimed as if he’d told her they’d tried to straighten him out with leeches. “Asthma, too! So primitive.” 

Sam returned with Riley at that point and she shook her head again. “You are fine. Strain yourself if you feel like it.” 

She left then and Steve only stared at his friends, not entirely sure what had just happened. “Uh.” 

Both of them hugged him at once and he hugged back awkwardly. They didn’t exchange any words, and Steve was pretty sure they didn’t need to. Each of them already knew what the others had thought, and how glad they all were to be alive. 

Steve was the one who finally broke the silence. “Did we actually save the world from Nazis?” 

The hug dissolved into laughter. “Yeah, bud,” Riley nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what happened yesterday.” 

They walked him back to the plane where Stark was waiting, fiddling with something on his robot-suit. Steve glanced around. “What happened to Bucky? And the redhead?” 

“Natasha?” Sam clarified, and Steve nodded. That was probably what Nat was short for. “Yeah, apparently he’s a little more complicated than ‘a few misplaced bones.’ The doctors here were poking around in his head- not literally, don’t puke on my shoes, Steve, stop- They were screwing around with him all night. Whatever HYDRA did to us? Nothing compared to the knots they tied his brain into.” 

“We’re not leaving without seeing them, are we?” Steve asked. 

~*~ 

It turned out Bucky woke up around the same time as Steve. Natasha saw the three of them enter and immediately commandeered Sam and Riley. He was a little nervous about why, but Bucky was sitting on the edge of the bed with a look like a kicked puppy that somehow resulted in Steve crossing the room to hug that face into his chest until it stopped looking that way. 

Bucky hugged him back for a long moment before murmuring, “I’m sorry.” 

Steve laughed a little. He couldn’t help it. “For what?” 

“I almost killed you.” 

Steve shrugged, still hugging him. “That wasn’t you.” 

“Whether I wanted to or not… I did it.” 

Steve sighed and pulled away so that he could sit and be closer to Bucky’s level. “Look, Buck, I know. But you didn’t want to. If you’d been in control… And you are now, right? The doctors here, they got it all out of your head. You don’t have to worry about HYDRA ever again, right pal?” 

Bucky gave him a sad smile. “Right.” 

“So why do you still look like someone ruined your day?” 

Bucky shrugged and shook his head. 

“Oh, come on,” Steve pressed. “You saved the world, saved your friends-” 

“Friends?” Bucky echoed as Steve rambled on, “Got your girlfriend back- Yeah, God, Buck. We’re your friends. You don’t go through something like that and never talk to each other again.” 

Bucky was frowning again. Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not a difficult concept, Buck. You keep telling me I’m good- well, you are too. You deserve this. All of it. No matter what that crap in your head made you do before.” 

“All of it?” he echoed, like Steve was speaking a foreign language. One Bucky didn’t understand. 

“Yeah, Buck. Friends, freedom, health, love, all of it.” Steve cursed his voice for quivering on that last item, but maybe Bucky wouldn’t- 

“Love.” Of course he noticed. 

Steve laughed nervously, trying to ignore the rattle of what used to be his heart and was now a ridiculous traitor for feeling feelings that made no sense. “Yeah. Of course. The way Natasha looks at you…” 

Bucky let out a sad chuckle. “Steve, it’s not like that.” 

“So you just kiss people for fun?” 

Bucky gave him a sharp look. “I didn’t kiss you for fun.” 

Oh, good. There were those heart shards grinding together, getting sharper. “So why then?” 

“Because you’re good.” 

Steve scoffed in disbelief. “So, what, it’s like a pat on the head for you or-” 

“Because you’re good and I think you’re wonderful and I want to keep you safe.” 

“I can keep myself plenty safe, pal.” 

“I know.” 

Steve didn’t know what he was so angry about. “I’m not some charity case.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why-?” 

Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand in his right. “You’re good,” he repeated again, desperation in his eyes that made Steve realize he was saying something more with those words, even if Steve wasn’t getting it. “I want you to stay in the world. I- I don’t want you to go.” 

“Pretty sure I’m not going anywhere after the doctoring I just got,” Steve replied, but he was quiet now. He squeezed Bucky’s hand. “You mean… with you?” 

Bucky nodded. He had that kicked puppy look again, and this time Steve braced himself to skip the hug and just kissed him. Bucky made a small noise in the back of his throat, but Steve was pretty sure the fact that he was pulling Steve closer meant that he’d figured out what the brunet was asking for. They broke apart after a minute and just shared each other’s oxygen. “I’m not going anywhere, pal,” Steve promised. “Just say the word.” 

Bucky hugged him close. “Please stay.” 

“To the end of the line, pal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, even my beta is making fun of me at this point. Practically the first comment she made on this fic was, "I think it's time you accepted you have a shrinkyclinks problem."
> 
> The only problem i have is that somehow everything i write is shrinky? I don't know how or why. I have no preference for it. I love all Steebs equally. Don't look at me.


End file.
